Forbearance
by Enitsu Emria
Summary: Of different worlds and beleifs, woven together by a destiny that binds them to the future. An unexpected reluctant romance that neither of them expected to happen. Prophesies, Death, Undeniable Lust and Desire and SNOGGING! Read and Reveiw!
1. And So It Begins

**FORBEARANCE**

**Author**: Enitsu Emria

**Author e-mail**: lady_ragna_lestrange@yahoo.com

**Genre**: Romance, Mystery, Angst, 

**Rating**: PG-13

**Pairings**: Draco/Hermione 

**Summary**: Of different worlds, bound by beliefs and loyalties, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger have hated each other ever since. However, when put together in responsibilities either of them would have accepted if only they each bore them alone, there forms a string of fatal attraction that draws them to each other which defies the notions of their placid minds of knowing better. 

Things grow worse when the entirety of the sixth year population is sent to a remote castle in the north of France. Prophecies, snogging, death, wild identity crises, a love triangle, extreme self-denial, a demented Dark Lord, and all in all an outlandish D/H twist. 

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter, names, characters and related indicia are copyright of Warner Brothers and JK Rowling. They're not mine… well, I wish Draco was (the wonderful heaven sent creation of the gods to fulfill the craving of every young woman on earth!) but he's not, so there!

~~*

_I struggle,_

_For still, I remain trapped in my solitary confinement._

_I crave to surrender, to this anguish and be free of all the pain…_

_But, I am a fool, because I refuse to give up this sweet torment._

_I listen, _

_But I am deafened, by the throbbing silence of my senses. _

_I speak,_

_Because I refuse to remain silent,_

_But, in mid-sentence, I cease, for I fear that I would end up defenseless._

And in that momentous broken stillness, my voice is drowned in to the abyssal darkness of oblivion.

_I choose to weep; I set free an emotion my tears convey flawlessly. Loneliness._

_~~*_

_Chapter One: And so it Begins_

Behind the dark curtains of the young boy's bed, the dark colored satin covers shifted and moved incessantly. The boy lay wide-awake; he did not want to close his eyes, for he knew the horror he would see… It would be an endless realm of unpleasantness; visions too vile… even for him. He feared though discreetly for the experience of envisioning such things were nothing to the fact that it was reality, all that he was seeing. The dreams were signs, signs that were beckoning him to his fate.

He was sixteen, and in a year; he would be imprisoned in a cell far worse that his current one, his own home… the Malfoy Manor.

He sat up. He ran a hand through his soft silver-blonde hair. Like nights before, he woke up bathed in cold sweat running down his pale face.  He knew very well that it was a dream, but yet it seemed all too real.

He had been having those kinds of dreams for the past years and he knew he had no one but his father to blame for all it.

Sitting up in frustration, he flung the black sheets off his body. Cursing under his breath, he climbed out of his four-poster bed and strode over to the large oak study table in one corner of his wide room. A dim lamplight burned in the far angle of the table. Pulling out a piece of parchment out from the desk's drawer, he began to scribble on with his long albatross quill an endless clutter of words, telling of the horrors his dreams showed him.  

It was an outlet for him, when he couldn't sleep; when he felt miserable. He put everything down on paper and after he sensed a change in his mood, he burned all he had written down. It seemed useless, but somehow, for him; it worked.

He had never wanted his life, more specifically, the way it was; the atrocious way it was set. He could have never lived for all he cared. But since he was a child, he had bound himself to a belief that he would be something one day, and what he would have to set his mind to, to be just that. According to his father, he was to be great.

As a child he idolized his father, he thought him as every thing a man of honor was. He was the quintessence of what he could pass off as a respectable man; an epitome of honor and greatness. Yet, as he grew older, he began to realize that nothing, absolutely nothing his father ever did was honorable. He knew that such a man never deserved to be praised as he was. He began to ask what was the sense of following such a man, who speaks of things in words too big to even comprehend its true meaning, when he himself cannot even live up to half of what he pushes others to be. He knew only a fool could be stupid enough to follow on.

He once mocked all those who thought he was lucky, for it was true that he did have everything. He was brought up in a life of luxury and lavishness, and everything he wanted was dropped into the palm of his hand just like that. Now he pitied them, they were envying a child who had nothing real, who lived in an illusion.

He grew up bitter and unfeeling. He did not let any emotion ever be visible on his face. It was just as he had been taught, just as he was told to do. He had found this to his advantage however seeing the outside world clearly; looking into someone else's eyes and seeing their disappointment that they could not read him. No one would ever be able to read him, because he would never show anything ever. Not a trace of emotion, he was certain of it. Little did he know, the Gods were laughing.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted as the door of his room suddenly creaked open. He did not think twice about crumpling the piece of parchment he had previously been writing on.

"Draco?" said a soft voice.

He breathed a sigh of relief; it was only she.

"What are you doing up this late an hour?" asked his mother. The tall woman pushed open the large door of her son's quarters and entered the room slowly. He shifted in his seat, turning to face her. She was radiant as she always was. Her blonde hair that was a shade darker than his father's and his own was glimmering in the torchlight of the hallway. Her lively blue eyes were looking at him with concern. Even her own son did not know how she could retain such elegance and beauty, and life even, after eighteen years of being married to someone like Lucius Malfoy. 

"I couldn't sleep mother," he explained unwilling to meet his mother's gaze.

Narcissa Malfoy stepped in to the room. She dragged the train of her amethyst shaded robe in to the enormous quarters of her son. Closing the door behind her, she focused her attention on his face.

"Is there something bothering you?" she asked softly. She had sensed that something was wrong with him.

Draco looked up. "It's…" he stopped at his mother's look of concern. "It's nothing mother… nothing at all" he said finally. It was a lie, but he had never depended on his mother to ever understand him fully. 

She looked at his pale face, which was as expressionless as his father's; she knew he was lying. She was just not one to persist on the subject.

Narcissa smiled a sweet, sympathetic smile. A kindly gesture that would get her killed if her husband ever saw it.

She glanced at Draco for a moment and felt a pang of pain. When she looked at him, she remembered the man she had married, the man that he was then; the man whom she had loved and whom she believed had loved her as well, and then there was the man that he had become; a man blinded by power and wealth. She sighed; the man she had loved was long gone. Yet her love, it was impossible to lose, no matter what she did, she knew that she was bound to him.

It hurt her to think that the same should happen to her son; he would become as bitter as his father and at such a young age, he would learn to let go of every single emotion that ran through his body. He would be impassive, he would learn not to care, and he would learn to kill, and not regret.

And she would be there to witness it all, she would have nothing to do but to mourn for him in her despair. 

She knew she had been foolish. Of course, she knew of the consequences that she would soon face when she had wed the Malfoy heir. But there was something that kept her alive all these years; it was a lost memory reminded her that once, a long time ago, he had loved her. And though Lucius Malfoy would never admit it, he knew that he loved her.

"Return to bed Draco, if that is that. You must get some sleep. Tomorrow we shall be at Diagon Alley, to get your books. You know very well…"

"Yes, mother I do," said Draco as he stood up from his chair. His mother turned to him with a mild smile.

"I am sure you have the enthusiasm to enter your sixth year, it will be the last year after all before the your seventh. See Draco, see how you are so close to growing up?" she said. Draco retained a look of impassiveness.

"And you would be proud when I do… yes yes mother, I have heard it before," Narcissa laughed mildly.

"You know it is not only I but also…" She stopped for a moment and observed her son's face, she wondered if he approved of Lucius' plans for him. The boy had been so adept at hiding his emotions that it was almost impossible to interpret his expressions. "your father…"

"What about father?" Draco asked pursing his lips and turning away from his mother. 

Narcissa turned around to open the door. "I'm sure," she started "That he will be proud of you as well…"

Draco snorted inaudibly. _He will just be delighted that he would be able to serve me to the Dark Lord on a silver platter now that he's returned._

"Yes mother, where is father anyway," said Draco with very little enthusiasm.

Narcissa winced. "He left for Cornwall this morning. Upon his return, you will be at Hogwarts,"

Draco nodded, not another moment passed and Narcissa left the room.

Draco closed the door behind her. He slid down its crafted hinges and mused. He thought that he had been foolish to have ever believed that his family was perfect. To the outsider, the Malfoy family seemed to be the epitome of a faultless wizarding family. But Draco knew the truth; it was within the stonewalls of the estate where he had learned that power and influence had nothing to do with being perfect as a family. The Malfoy family was not perfect. To describe them as perfect would be a crime… Perfect was a word reserved for families who lived without secrets, or in their case… dark secrets. Apparently, the Malfoy's wallowed in that sort of thing and therefore was in appropriate to compare with perfection; they were tremendously far from that.

 ~~*

Rising almost automatically from her bed, Hermione Granger looked up from the darkness of her dark room. 

She willed herself to calm down. Her eyes were wide open as they adjusted to the light of the dark bedroom. She felt like she had just woken up from a night out she had spent watching horror movie. Regaining her senses, she repeated over and over in her mind that it had only been a dream, a nightmare… about…

She contemplated in her mind and required herself to remember what exactly had she been dreaming about. 

Realizing soon after that it was useless, she pulled off the covers off her body and got out of her bed. 

It had to be three in the morning, but she knew very well that sleeping wasn't a very good thing to do at that moment. She did not really want to wake up from a nightmare that she could not remember.

Hermione raised her hand to her face. She felt a moist trail of tears running down her cheeks. She comprehended that she had been crying in her sleep.

Entering the marble tiled bathroom she rushed to the mirror and cringed at the sight of her own face. She looked dreadful. It was as if she had been tortured; her face was almost covered with tearstains and her eyes were unusually reddened. Her lips were swollen; she figured that she must have bit in to them without knowing why.

Hermione immediately turned on the tap, and splashed a handful of water on her face to wash away the tearstains.

It scared her to see herself like this. She had to know; what had her dream been about?

~~*

"Hermione, Hermione darling. Get up. It's almost nine," Called Mrs. Granger from the kitchen of their house.

Of course Hermione had been up, even dressed. She had been reading silently in her room ever since she had woken up that morning. 

It was a wonderful August day, and the day she would go to Diagon Alley and get her things for the sixth year. It would be a wonderful year she thought. She had been chosen as one of the Gryffindor prefects last year along with Parvati Patil and Harry Potter. Harry (foolishly; according to Hermione) turned down the position.

But then again, taking the position would interfere with his busy Quidditch schedule, as he had been voted captain just this year. Hermione figured it was not a bad decision.

Ron had been chosen as the new Gryffindor Keeper just last year to Harry's delight. Finally, his best friend was on the team. Yet, though life was not that easy for Ron when he first entered the team, Hermione knew that he was making an effort. Ron's surprising save of last year's game was a vital event that boosted his confidence from then on.

Hermione smiled at the thought of her two best friends. To her, no one could ever take their place in her heart.

"I've been up since three," said Hermione as a matter-of-factly as the entered the kitchen.

Mrs. Granger smiled at her daughter.

"Since three? What have you been doing?"

Hermione stopped; she remembered that it was her nightmare that woke her up. But she certainly did not want her mother to worry about her.

"Studying, school is in two weeks. I really wanted to get some advanced reading done," she said hastily.

"That's nice dear," said her mother. "Well, it's quarter to nine, we must be off if you want to get to … to, what was that place again?"

Hermione smiled. "Diagon Alley mother, really. We've been there five times already, how could you forget?"

Mrs. Granger gave her a sympathetic look. "Dear, I'm not exactly a witch like you are…"

"Mother…"

"Alright, hurry off to the car. We better get going… I'll just pack some snacks," 

Packing up a few sandwiches, Mrs. Granger and Hermione headed to the family car and were off to Diagon Alley.  

~~*

Flourish and Blots was almost packed, mostly with Hogwarts Students. After paying off his schoolbooks, Malfoy headed over to a favorite part of his in the bookstore: the dark arts history section. He was thankful that the Department of Wizarding Literature at the Ministry had not banned the publishing and distribution of Dark Arts reading materials in various bookshops within the Magical community of England. He mused; books in the Malfoy Library, which was comprised of a wide variety, yet not exactly comprehensive, would not at all content him. 

He walked up the stairway and made his way to that section, browsing over every new title he saw. He saw a few interesting titles and took almost all of them.

_'One last one' _he thought.

Browsing over a few other books, one finally caught his eye. It was entitled _The Rise of the Dark_. He smirked mirthlessly.

_'This should be interesting…'_

Finally done with his selection, he glanced down to the first floor; which one could view almost entirely when you were where Draco was standing.

He could recognize a few Hufflepuff girls huddled in one corner. Ironically, it was the Witch Weekly magazine stand. _What a pitiful lot_.

He could not see a single Slytherin, and he knew exactly why. Like himself, those of his house did not want to associate or even catch sight of members of the other houses; which is why they came to purchase their books early. Four or even six weeks before classes started. Draco however, was late. His father had kept him at the manor for the entire summer, and he was to leave only when Lucius would leave Wiltshire himself for business in Cornwall.

Draco immediately tore his thoughts away from his father. He did not even want to think about what he had been doing all summer.

He continued scanning the store. A streak of russet caught his eye. He leered with mirth when he realized who it was.

There, in the middle of the store was the lone Gryffindor; Hermione Granger.

~~*

Hermione picked up a thick history book. She read its title: _The Transylvanian Magical History._

Hermione smiled, she had found another book that she would use to pass time when she was at Hogwarts. Harry and Ron would occasionally boar her to death when they were together by talking of nothing but Quidditch. It was quite annoying sometimes. Hermione smiled at the memory of her friends. In a few days, she would see the two of them again…

"Well, well look who we have here. Famous Potter's sidekick; Mudblood Granger…" said a very familiar voice behind her. Hermione closed her eyes not willing to believe it. So much for her happy thoughts. She turned to glare at him. She was almost taken aback when she saw Draco Malfoy standing tall before her. He had certainly grown taller over the summer. But still that would not scare her.

"A very unpleasant day to you too Malfoy," she spat at him. "And may I say that you have done a perfect job of ruining my day…"

Draco laughed mirthlessly. "Thank you for the complement, Granger… Now isn't this nice?"

Hermione looked at him with a look of faint confusion. "What?" Hermione asked.

"You and I meeting… on this lovely day, and no sight of your ever loving body guards…"

"I don't think that is lovely at all _Malfoy,_ and if you would excuse me… I would like to be somewhere else; away from you…" and with that she turned her back to him and strode over to the novel section. It was a very boring section, but she'd rather be there than anywhere near Draco Malfoy.

He however, had never had a woman turn her back to him and walk away. It annoyed him, and so, he followed her, to her revulsion.

"I wonder if your good for nothing muggle parents taught you that walking away like that is rude," he said. Hermione glared at him.

"You don't know anything about my parents Malfoy! And for all I know, you don't know the definition of rude,"   

Draco eyed her for a moment, and then smirked. 

"I do Granger, don't worry…" he said.

She looked at him and raised an eyebrow. Draco laughed cruelly; his ivory white teeth were revealed, her annoyance grew greater. 

He then turned his back to her and started to walk away. She glared at him hatefully.

Almost at the end of the isle, he turned his head back to her and looked at her for a moment.

"By the way, don't read that book," he said as he eyed the book in her hands. Hermione looked the Transylvanian History Book and turned her gaze back to him. "It's too tedious… even for you"

He walked away from her and made his way to the counter.

She stared after him in shock.

~~*

Hermione looked over her selection before paying for the lot. Satisfied, she approached the counter and the clerk rung her up. Fingering a few galleons in her pocket, she pulled her money out. The store was almost empty now, had she really been in there for so long?

The clerk was now holding the history book she had first picked. It was the black leather clad History book. Strangely, she remembered the words she had heard a few moments ago. _"Its too boring…"_ She glanced at it for a moment and then turned to the clerk.

"Wait, I won't be getting that one," she said.

~~*

_What the hell was I thinking, telling that mudblood something like that?_ Thought Draco as he left Diagon Alley in the enchanted carriage with his mother. Well, It was a boring book and he had already read it… It would merely be a waste of her time. _Bah! _ What did he care? Granger could boar herself to death reading that book; and he would not care…

"Draco… Draco,"

"Huh? What?"

"What is wrong with you? Have you been listening to a word I have been saying?" asked Narcissa impatiently as she looked at her son with speculation. 

"Nothing… what is that you have been saying again?"

"We're almost over the Manor. I suggest you pack your things when we get home. Kimby, your house elf is assigned to the kitchen for the ball at the Manor tomorrow afternoon,"

"Ball? Is that how father asks you to refer it as mother? If that is so, our occasional death eater conferences should be referred to as tea parties," he said sarcastically.

Narcissa smiled. "It is a meeting for the many prestigious dark arts royalties Draco, if we were to refer it as that, the ministry would be on higher guard… and we wouldn't want that to happen now, wouldn't we?"

"Maybe I do…" sighed Draco.

"If your father only heard you now…" she said choosing not to continue mentioning the consequences that Lucius would impose on his own son for such a comment. 

The enchanted flying carriage started to descend as the Manor came in to view. The many courtyards and fields of the Malfoy estate was a sight for soar eyes… the vast ranges and verdant hills that were glistening with the afternoon sunset. Draco's foul mood was slightly raised.

"Drop me off at the Quidditch pitch Higgins" Draco called to the ghost coachman.

Narcissa looked at her son. "Quidditch at four in the afternoon? Isn't it too late?"

"It is never late for Quidditch mum," Draco said firmly as he pushed the carriage door open as it landed by the broom storage house.

"Be at the dinning hall by eight," called Narcissa from the stagecoach as it rode away to the front courtyard.

Draco nodded.

~~*

Hermione looked from her books to her robes as they were now neatly packed in her trunk. She sighed with relief.

"Perfect… all done," she said.

She sat down on one of the chairs by her window and glanced outside. It was almost seven o' clock in the evening and the night sky was glistening with stars. The moon was nearly full, in a few days it would be, and the sky would be it's brightest that month. Hermione stood up and walked over to the glass door leading to her room's balcony. Pulling the sliding door to the right, she walked in to her room's balcony. She pulled her jacket tighter around her as she leaned on the balcony's railing looking up at the dark purple night sky.

As a child, Hermione adored stargazing. It was a wonderful hobby she loved to do with her cousins when they slept over at her house. 

And because of her youthful delight; when she was seven, her father decided to move her in to the only room in the house with a balcony, so that she could have a perfect view of the sky each night. Hermione was elated of course, but as she grew older, her interests began to augment and her favorite task on nights at the Granger home was slowly forgotten.

Hermione grimaced at that childhood memories, it was a shame she never found time away from schoolwork at Hogwarts to do something as simple as take a gaze at the night sky. Tonight was a strange exception; the quiet town bellow seemed non-existent as she lost herself in the beautiful assemblages of glimmering lights.

For a brief moment, she wondered if anyone else was watching this beautiful clear night sky like herself, similarly endowed by the quiet night and the bright stars. 

~~*

Draco ran his hand through his platinum blonde hair. He had just landed on the center of the private Quidditch pitch at the end of the manor grounds. He could see that the sky was clear, He had evidently picked a perfect time to practice. Also, maybe, by the time the Quidditch season started, all the practice would pay off and he could show Potter that he could be as great as him.    

Like Harry, Draco was also Quiddtich captain that year; the Slytherins had obviously set their preferences for him, and had voted for him. Lucius had told him that he had been proud that Draco had made it on his own without him having to pay they other students off just to get the best for his son. Draco hated him for that, of course, he could have made it on his own, and he had been trained to be great and strong after all. But even though he did live up to all he had been trained for, to his father, it was never enough. Draco was always weak in his eyes.

As the moon rose slowly in the sky, Draco decided to do another round of flying before entering the manor for dinner. 

Draco ascended in to the sky; he had flown like he had never flown before. He had not cared what anyone would say if they would see him. His broom crashed in to the gathering clouds as he flew higher, rising to a sky, which slowly began to resemble the color of ink. He flew fast, and for once, he flew recklessly, but non the less, with precision.

As he took a turn from one of the goal posts, he realized that he had been flying carelessly. He smirked; it felt good.

~~*

Taking a deep breath, Hermione tightened her grip on her trolley and ran towards the barrier at full speed.

On the platform, she took a moment to catch her breath. The sight of the anxious Hogwarts students was a sight for soar eyes. Not once in her entire summer had Hermione been given the chance to see her two best friends, or any other Hogwarts student for that matter.

The Weasleys had gone to Romania for the summer to visit Charlie along with Harry who had been graciously invited.

Hermione had been invited as well, but she had spent her summer in Denmark with her aunt Azira; her mother's sister. She had badly wanted to go, there was no way she would let Harry and Ron have fun without her. Though, she thought; maybe they did not for the fact that she wasn't there… Hermione smiled; then again, she had been too vain to say that.

She grinned to herself, she had to conclude that nothing would ever compare to the friendship the trio shared.

Hermione moved her cart towards the train as she allowed the conductors to load her trunk in to the baggage compartment.

"Mione!!!" shrieked someone behind her. Hermione turned to come face to face with a young redhead running towards her.

"Ginny!" she exclaimed. She dropped her bag to greet her young friend with a warm embrace.

"How have you been this summer?" Ginny asked with a gleeful expression. Her flaming red hair wonderfully glistened in the light and her warm features were evident. Hermione had to admit that Ginny had grown rather beautiful. But according to Lavender and Parvati, she was still too naive to notice.  

"Oh, Denmark was wonderful, how about you? I bet Romania was a blast!" exclaimed Hermione.

"Yes it certainly was, Ron talked Charlie in to giving him one of his marble dragon figurines, the ones that spit golden balls of smoke when you tickle them. Of course I had one too and so did Harry" she took a breath in before continuing. "A-and we went hiking in the dragon breeding pits. We practiced flying as well, Charlie was impressed I had an interest in flying," she said, and lowering her voice a little, she moved a bit closer to Hermione. "He told me that my flying skills would be much use to Ron if only I could give them to him," Hermione smiled. "It was a lot of fun! I wish you could have been there Hermione,"

"So do I, have I really missed that much fun?" said Hermione smiling at Ginny's attempt to relay all the wonderful experiences they had in Romania.

"By Merlin you have Hermione, you should really come along the next time…" said a voice behind her. She turned around and found yet another redhead smiling at her.

"Ron!" she exclaimed and she jumped to hug him. Ron had grown very tall over the years and had definitely filled out in all the right places, Hermione was sure that was because of tireless Quidditch practice sessions with Harry the previous summer. Ron was determined to improve after his first fifth year, when he had first joined the Quidditch team, and Harry was also determined— to help him. 

"Ooff! Hermione *cough* gerrof!" Ron sputtered out.

"Where's Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, he was sent to Hogwarts early by three days. Dumbledore's orders. I'm surprised you don't know, didn't Harry write you?" said Ron.

Hermione frowned. "No… B-but I'm sure he just forgot,"

"What do you think that could be about Ron? I mean Harry being called for…" asked Ginny.

"You know Dumbledore, maybe it's about You-Know-Who… I mean, he hasn't been active for about two years. Do you think Dumbledore is putting some extra protection on Harry?"

"Most likely," said Hermione. Her perfect smile returning to her warm features. "But let's not worry ourselves just yet, Harry can handle anything the dark side throws at him," 

"Guess your right Minie…"

~~*

Being called in the end compartment of the Hogwarts express, Hermione walked straight in that direction. There was to be a prefect's meeting, it was called by the current head girl; Cho Chang. She glanced behind her for a moment, wondering if Ginny was following closely. Ginny Weasley had been chosen as a prefect also for her year to Mrs. Weasleys delight. Of course, she knew that Ginny would make an excellent prefect just like Percy. Well, maybe not as bossy as Percy but she would certainly do as good a job.

Hermione sighed; Ginny would certainly be a lot longer than expected so she continued walking to the end compartment by herself.

She passed the lady with the snack trolley on the way and bought a few chocolate frogs for Ron. They were already in the sixth year and still, Mrs. Weasley had him pack corned beef sandwiches. Hermione swore that he had the right mind to throw them out of the train and would not care a bit if he were to go hungry for the whole trip.  

On the way to the end compartment, she saw one of the doors open and to her revulsion; from it emerged the renowned king ego-trip of the Slytherin house: Draco Malfoy. 

He looked unusually pissed; Hermione could not suppress a smile. That however, disappeared when Draco turned to look at her.

She stopped, as she saw his expression. His gray, blank eyes staring at her with such intent, overcome with an unreadable emotion she could not comprehend. She tensed, Hermione never wanted to be looked at the way he looked at her then, by anyone. 

But as quickly as she had entered it, that moment was over. It had slipped away from her as if it had never happened, because as he looked at her, a dastardly smirk touched his lips and she snapped out of her reverie. 

"Well, well, if it isn't the mudblood, I despise so much…" he said with a sneer.

Hermione glared at him. He would allow a moment to pass between them where in he did not call her that filthy name did he? She focused on walking past him to the end compartment without a word. She found out eventually that it was not such a good idea.

Draco grabbed her arm as she walked passed him. He shook her vigorously willing her to look at him. 

Hermione winced. His fingers were digging in to her skin beneath her black robes; it hurt her. His grip was extremely strong, and she was sure that she would not be able to merely pull away from him. He pulled her closer to him so that their faces were inches away. His gray eyes darkened as he looked in to her cinnamon colored ones.

"I really don't appreciate women walking away from me like what your doing Granger. Especially when they have done it for the second time," he said with a very hard expression showing his anger, his hot breath fanning across her cheek.

Hermione looked at him with utter distaste. She did not hamper her struggle to break free of his grip as she shook her arm forcefully. 

"As I did the first time, and as I am still doing; I do not or don't have any plans of respecting your presence Malfoy. I would not lower my self respect to the likes of you," she hissed. "Now let me go!" she screamed.

"Well you should Granger," he said a little more lightly. He loosened his grip on her arm a bit, but refused to let her go. "Mudbloods, should know their place…" Hermione levelled her gaze with his, and for a moment she thought she saw something… it was something like regret… or was it… fear? What ever she thought she saw, was forgotten when his eyes darkened once more. He could sense her reading him through his eyes. He could never allow that. 

Hermione shook his hand off and pushed him away from her. Draco smirked and took another step towards her. "And that's grovelling, at the feet of purebloods,"

"Being a self-centered bastard is not one of your ambitions now is it Malfoy?" she asked sarcastically. "Because if it is, I assure you that you have mastered the art so perfectly,"

Draco laughed mockingly.

"I already am Granger…"

Hermione's eyes narrowed as she took this in. Her eyes trailed off to his prefect badge.

"You don't deserve _that_ Malfoy…" she spat, eying the badge. "Regardless of how highly you think of yourself, you really don't deserve that honor,"

"And you do? Mudblood? A filthy muggle-born slut like you deserves more than I?"

"Perhaps I do Malfoy… compared to you," she said. 

Draco looked insulted. He had hated her so much for what she had said. In utmost anger, he raised his hand to strike her but then lowered it slowly as he took a deep breath.

Hermione cringed; she could hardly believe that he was enough of a git to have the nerve to hit her if he had decided to do so. She took a step away from him. That moment passed with the both of them standing before each other.

"Are you afraid?" Hermione asked as she broke silence.

"What?" asked Draco with a slight hint of exasperation in his voice.

"Are you afraid, that if you strike me… something would hit would hit you back?" she asked without thinking.

"What are you talking about? I'm not afraid…" he said firmly.

She raised her gaze to his. She saw what she thought she would see… coldness. Hermione was mentally kicking herself for asking such a stupid question of him. Of course he was not afraid… 

"There is nothing I feel for you, but pity" he continued with finality.

Hermione grunted. She gave him her snottiest look and turned her back to him. She walked away extremely infuriated with him.

Strangely, he let her. Draco looked at her small figure walking away from him.

Was he afraid?

~~*

If it were not just for duty, Draco wouldn't care less about Cho Chang's bossy ranting. He looked at the quiet head boy beside her and smirked. He might be as bored as the rest of the prefects were.

Draco looked around him; he doubted if any of the people in that compartment were listening to a word Cho was saying. Even the Ravenclaw's were evidently bored. For how could anyone not be? Cho was ranting about facts that were already discussed last year. Everybody was looking like they were listening to a tape recorder that had been played for the hundredth time. 

And then Draco saw her, sitting at the end of the compartment; almost close to the door. He realized he spoke too soon; of course _she_ was listening.

Hermione Granger, the bushy-haired know it all, quill in hand, note pad in the other; she was busy, taking down notes on what was being discussed in the meeting.

Hermione's legs were crossed tightly and her pad was atop her lap as she scribbled the details of the meeting. 

Draco looked at her with sheer aversion. He was extremely irritated with her. She walked the halls of Hogwarts like she was a queen, just because she had the highest grades ever recorded in the history of the academia. Draco ranked a close second of course, but still it was never enough. He tried to obscure that truth by always remembering the fact that she had made that mark was no excuse for what filthy blood ran through her veins; the blood of muggles. Draco had the odd feeling that somehow, it was not a belief anymore; it was becoming an excuse.

But ever since the second year Draco could not help but be insulted, he could not accept the fact that something as lowly as her had proven to be better than him, and though he would rather kill himself than to admit it, he knew that it was true; he was jealous of her. He was jealous of her perfection, not only in her academics, but also in things more important than that. He was jealous of the friendship she shared with Pothead and Weasel… It seemed like something so firm that could never be broken… ever, even by him. He was jealous of her intimate connections with almost everyone in the school except the Slytherins, jealous of the respect almost everyone had for her, and he was jealous of her family… Though he had never seen them all together, he knew; that mudblood's family was perfect. No matter how filthy their muggle blood was.

~

Hermione looked up at Cho, she was sure that there was nothing more the head-girl needed to discuss which is why she pocketed her mini note pad and her quill. She scanned the room as the other prefects began to stand up. She looked towards the other end of the compartment and could not help but be distracted by the shock of blonde hair that met her eyes so vividly. Hermione looked at his face, and caught him staring at her. A chill ran through her spine, as their eyes met for a moment.

Hermione had almost forgotten that Draco Malfoy was also a Slytherin prefect. When she had seen his badge in the hallway, moments after she had been surprised, or even awed. But still, she could not help but think how wrong she was when she had said that he hadn't deserved it. Draco had worked for that achievement. It was one thing Hermione knew he hadn't bought. He ranked second to her at Hogwarts in every subject except Potions. Yet, that was no excuse for how much of a git he was to Harry, Ron and her.

She had been annoyed at seeing him once again, just after their unfortunate encounter in the train hallway.

Hermione's gaze was now locked with his, and though she could not help but be afraid of his murderous gaze, she found that she could not tear her eyes away from him. There was just something about his eyes; they were like pools of delicate silver, which sucked you in to their realm of nothingness. _They were cold, unfeeling, but strangely… beautiful._

Hermione shut her eyes and turned away, _beautiful? Had she just used beautiful in association with Draco Malfoy? Where did that come from? _She asked herself. _I must be truly loosing my mind._

"Alright there Mione?" asked Ginny beside her as she stood up to leave.

Hermione turned to her friend and smiled.

"Yes, of course," she said as she stood up. "We really must be getting back to the compartment, we'll be reaching Hogsmade soon.

Ginny nodded, and they both exited through the partition.

~

Draco looked after her as she exited the compartment. He could not think of nothing else but his detestation for the Gryffindor prefect…__

_I hate you…_

~~*

"DRAAACCO!!! I cannot believe I was able to survive an entire summer without the sight of you!!!" Draco swore as he heard the shrill voice of the Slytherin girl as she came running to him. Pansy hugged Draco tighter than a mountain troll could ever grip his club. He growled in annoyance as he shook her off.

"Would you mind? We're at a train station! The least you could do is level down your impropriety for about an hour Pansy…" Draco said curtly as he motioned for Crabbe and Goyle to follow him in to the carriage they had reserved. 

Pansy frowned and had gone quiet. She followed behind them silently. 

Draco took a step in to the carriage when he realized that the four of them would never fit in such a small sized transport. He turned to his two overgrown _'friends'. _

_"_You two, take the carriage up back, I'll meet you at Hogwarts," he told them commandingly.

The two fools grunted in agreement and waddled off to the next carriage. Draco looked at Pansy and had seen that her frown had disappeared. She was now smiling happily at him to his disgust. He knew why, he knew that though she was dumb, she was thick enough to realize that they would be sharing a carriage, together… alone. 

He was utterly appalled. He obviously did not like Pansy, though she was on her hands and knees for him day and night. He did not know why she could not stuff it through her puny little brain that he did not like her. Not the slightest bit.

Maybe she still had the notion that Lucius had set his preference for her as the one to be Draco's wife. But Draco knew and he had confirmed, that Lucius would stand for any wife of his son's preference, as long as she met his conditions which were; fortune, heritage, family honor, and purity of wizarding blood.

For that, Draco was thankful. He would not be bound to Pansy; he would find a pureblooded witch more worthy of him. 

"Excuse me,"

Draco turned to the voice what had just spoken. It was she.

Standing next to Pansy, she looked radiant. Her auburn curls cascading down her back shone in the moonlight, and her cold azure eyes contrasted with her hair perfectly. Next to her Pansy looked like a pickled toad.

Blaise Zabini turned to Pansy, "Is it possible that I could ride with you? Millicent and the others are rather congested in that carriage,"

Draco breathed in relief. "Of course Blaise I- _we_ would be happy to oblige" he said. Pansy grunted in resentment and sent Draco a hateful expression. 

"Of course" she said with gritted teeth forcing a smile.

Draco smirked and stepped out of the doorway to alloy Blaise to enter first.

Blaise smiled at him as she stepped in to the carriage. Draco followed her leaving Pansy to follow behind him.

"Wench," she muttered before climbing in to the carriage. 

~~*

"Harry!" Hermione squealed as she spotted her best friend in the hallway leading to the great hall. 

The black haired boy turned and greeted her with a warm embrace.

"I've missed you," she whispered as she pulled her arms tighter around his neck.

"Same here…" he replied.

"Harry," she whispered as she melted in to his firm embrace. Hermione almost regretted pulling apart from his arms as he smiled merrily at her.

"Hey, I'm sorry you missed Romania. It was an absolute blast," said Harry.

Hermione sighed. "Me too, Ginny has told me so much. So has Ron,"

"Where are Ginny and Ron anyway?" Hermione turned to glance behind her and instantly spotted Ginny and Ron rushing towards them.

"There they are…"

Harry grinned as Ron came towards them. Hermione stood aside as Ron came to hug Harry firmly with a strong pat on his back.

"You won't believe how long that bloody train ride was Harry," exclaimed Ron.

"I'm sure it was…Let's get in to the Great Hall, the sorting is about to start,"

And with that, the trio made their way in to the hall. With Ginny sighing sadly behind them.

~~*

Draco was thankful that he was able to get to Hogwarts without Pansy having to cling to his arm the whole way. Strangely, he had found that she had disliked Blaise and would not stand to be near her. Then all Draco had to do was to stick to Blaise and Pansy would be out of his hair.

The sorting had begun a few minutes before and Professor Mc. Gonagall was now reading the students with R for surnames. Suddenly, the long-contemplating hat roared "GRYFFINDOR" at a young blonde haired girl, and instantly, the Gryffindor table erupted in cheers and laughter.

Draco heard his housemates groan in annoyance as the young girl marched happily to the Gryffindor table.

Draco rolled his eyes, '_Poor kid' _he thought at the young girl. He had this inkling that that child would be the next Hermione Granger of Hogwarts. 

Behind all the cheers and groans of the two houses, the young Slytherin heard something out of the commotion. 

It was a sweet sound, a crystal clear sound vividly ringing in his ear. It was the sweet sound of laughter. Draco never knew that he would ever refer to laughter as sweet, in his opinion, 'irksome' sounded much better with it. But then, at that moment, through all the different noises of the large dinning hall, he knew exactly who it was.

It was puzzling and yet irritating that he could always hear her laughter so clearly.

Granger.

Draco turned to where Hermione was sitting, across the room. It annoyed him to see her so happy like that, and that went for Potter and Weasel who sat beside her like two bodyguards. It was because he never wanted her to feel so gleeful while he sat miserably in his seat in between two gigantic pigs.

She was a mudblood. To Draco, she didn't deserve to feel such happiness.

After the sorting had been done with the entire student body endorsed in the feast. Hermione, clearly endowed in conversation, was completely unaware of the cold eyes upon her the whole time. 

"Draco, you haven't touched your food. Are you certain you are alright?" asked Blaise across from him.

Draco turned to her and nodded, he then stood up and threw his napkin on the table. "I'll be in my room," He said scornfully.

Blaise was surprised at his behavior; in front of her Draco had always acted well… pleasant… Well, as pleasant as he could be anyway.

 ~~*

Looking up from her food, Hermione caught sight of the Slytherin leaving the hall in anger.

"What could be up his arse?" she thought. 

~~* 

Hermione pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear as Ron began to ramble on to Harry about Quidditch. They were in the Gryffindor common room, which was brightly lit and crowded with students. 

Hermione had been reading one of the books she had purchased in Flourish and Blotts a few days before, she was rather absorbed in it though when she took it out of the bookshelf she highly doubted that she would even read it. It was a novel, about a magical realm similar to the wizarding world. It was entitled: The Land of Nall. In but a second, it was snatched out of her hands.

"What the… RON! Give that back to me!" Hermione exclaimed at the sight of Ron turning the book's pages curiously.

"What is this, Kepheran decent? Nireth—" Hermione reached and took the black leather clad book right back, and glared at Ron. 

"This, is non of your business Ron, really…" said Hermione matter-of-factly as Ron raised his eyebrow at her.

"Minie, I never knew you were in to this stuff, Ginny is the one fond of reading sappy novels like that…"

"It's not a sappy novel Ron, its about a magical realm, just like ours… for that matter, who are you to care what I read,"

Harry stood up between the both of them.

"Hermione is right Ron, give it a rest," He said.

Ron's studious expression turned in to a smile. Hermione returned his gesture.

"By the way Harry, what did Dumbledore want when he called you back to school early?" asked Hermione as she sat back down on the chair.

Harry turned to her. "He- he was wondering if I would consider the prefect job again, I don't know where he got the notion that I could do the job…"

Ron looked at him. " Harry, you're a born leader. What do you have to be doubtful of? Being a prefect will do you some good,"

"Yes, and it would keep the lot of you *out of trouble*" said Hermione. 

Harry gave a slight laugh, "Who would want to be? I rather enjoy our misadventures Hermione… trouble is what beckons them to us,"

"Anyway, what did you say? Did you accept it?" Hermione asked with interest.

"I said I'd think about it," said Harry.

"Gods Harry! What do you have to think about? This is an opportunity dancing before your eyes. Just quit with the thinking and grab it," said Ron as he looked at his best friend in disbelief.

"Well, I'm not sure…"

"I am, Harry" said Hermione "And I have all my confidence in you. You for one will make an excellent prefect. I might even nominate you for head boy," 

Ron laughed. "Harry, head boy? Your hopes are too high Hermione…"

Harry glared at him. "Oh sorry," Ron grinned.

Hermione stifled a laugh, and glanced at Harry. Their eyes met, and they stared at each other for a moment. Hermione found Harry's eyes alluring ever since she had met him. They seemed like pools of liquid emerald. They were almost as absorbing as Malfoy's. Malfoy, Hermione remembered her little encounter with him a few days ago. She remembered the uneasiness he caused her when he held her arm tightly on the train. She feared him then, because she was not sure of what he would do to her. But then, he remembered looking in to his eyes and seeing an emotion. A painful, mortifying emotion which she could not construe. Though what ever it was, she was sure that it had been there. _Why am I thinking about him?_ She thought as she looked away from Harry. She was so caught up in her thoughts to see the way Harry had been staring at her intently. 

~~*

Draco turned to the blazing green fires on the wall of his room. He smirked, he was glad he was a prefect. The job came with the pleasures of peace and serenity. He had his own room in the Slytherin dungeon, the place was secluded and very difficult to find… his smirk grew wider; that should keep Pansy out of my hair.

The banquet in the Slytherin common room was ongoing at that moment. He was sure of it, it was to welcome the first years; the new generation of minions of the dark; they said. Draco would not miss it, though he would certainly prefer to remain in his room. It was his obligation, oh how he hated such things. 

He hated how Pansy would come up to him in the Slytherin public and cling to him like a Quidditch Player grasps his broom and proclaim herself as his queen. Draco hated her. He never actually had been interested in women but it was one of his father's desires for him. Draco remembered Lucius' very words: "Find a woman, any woman, you need not to love her but she has to love you; and look upon you as the face of her salvation, and wed her…" 

He sighed angrily, he would never want to end up like his father and live his life. All the years he had seen his parents together, he had never seen love. Though he could see his mother crave for it. Maybe that's why he never came to know it… the love that he should have had was replaced by bitterness. All that, he blamed on his father.

"Draco?' said someone from the door. Draco turned and saw Blaise staring at him with wide eyes.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"They're all waiting for you… I suggest you show yourself as soon as possible," she said scathingly matching his ungrateful tone.

"What, the party doesn't start without the great Malfoy?"

Blaise looked at him sweetly. Draco crossed the room and approached her, he cornered her setting his arms on the wall beside the door and on both sides of her head.

"Great? Is that how you envision yourself?" she asked him. Her gaze levelled with his. She really did not want to be there at the moment. Her intention was to merely convene him out to the party. But who was she to deny that she rather enjoyed him pinning her to the wall like he did.

"Do you have any objections?" he asked as his eyes darkened. 

She could not speak; her voice was lost. But somehow, that's how she wanted it to stay. She did not regret that decision either as Draco's lips met hers. Engulfing her in to a realm of nothingness, and awakening a long latent sensation in her that threatened never to be awakened. 

After a while, he broke the kiss. As she gasped for breath she managed to sputter:

"You're not great Draco Malfoy… You're just a git,"

"You're lips don't agree Blaise, I'd do it again if you want…" he said, a smirk tugging at his lips.

She laughed, a cruel, mocking laugh as she pushed his arm away from one side of her head.

"What about Pansy?" she asked him.

Draco glared at her. "What about _her_?" he said gritting his teeth.

"She's your lover, is she not?" she said, with a lack of seriousness in her tone.

"Certainly not. I'd rather wed Goyle, Blaise you know that…" Draco spat.

"And if I shall be so, you will meet my conditions?"

"I shall, I promise," He said

"Slytherins don't keep promises Draco…" she said waving a finger in the air. "because promises, are made to be broken,"

Draco rolled his eyes, "You have my word then,"

Blaise smiled at him "Then it's official," She said finally taking a step towards him and wrapping an arm around his neck. Malfoy did not hesitate; he pulled her in his embrace and passionately kissed her once again.

~~*


	2. The Path of Daggers

_'Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding. Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.'_

_~~**_

_Chapter Two: The Path of Daggers_

_Upon an eternity, his life was engraved… His soul tied to one purpose; greatness._

_It was also the destiny of his father before him and may years from then it would be the destiny of his son to be. But then, this fate was his to face._

_It was the fate of a Malfoy, the fate of the great, the fate of the forlorn. It was the fate that he would face in mere minutes, and as he was to walk the long isle, making his surrender official. Though he was not supposed to think of it as surrender, in the words of his father, it was to be a reprise. For with coming to accept it, he would soon be reborn, opened up to a new life…_

_In the darkness of his heart, an unfathomable sparkle remained. But even he did not know of its existence. In a few moments, it was threatening to burn out forever._

_'Lucius," came Amadeus Malfoy's firm call from behind his son's door. Suddenly, the door burst open and the young boy saw his father's serious face look upon his own. "It is time,"_

_Lucius Malfoy nodded in agreement as he followed his father's fleeting figure thought the halls of the old Malfoy Manor. _

_The halls were dark that night; it had to be past midnight by a few hours. There was an eerie feel to the stone corridors of the Mansion, it was said, that if one stopped and truly listed to the silence while within the walls of the enormous structure, he could nearly hear voices speaking, laughing, sobbing, wailing sometimes even screaming. They were distant voices, voices only heard by one who wanted to hear all the things that happened in the Manor over the centuries, voices of the souls who still lingered in the forlorn place, prisoners of the magnificent palace. The faint glimmer of the burning torches at the end of the hall of the west wing was their guide to where Amadeus was leading his son to on that decisive night._

_That night, had been his last night of freedom, thought Lucius. It was the night he had done all he was free to do while not yet bound to the fate, which was responsibility. In the one night, he had traveled London with his friends to celebrate and to keep themselves entertained; they also murdered about a dozen muggles for the sole purpose of festivity and fun. Earlier that night, he had also attained his goal of bedding the Galagher-Le Noire (_A/N; Le Noire is Black in French, I know Narcissa's Family name is Black, Le Blanc was closer but that means white, a little drama never hurt anyone)_ heiress to the throne of the Dark Arts French Royalty- Narcissa. Hopefully, he would have gotten her with child, as he were to wed her in a month after he had pledged allegiance to the Dark Lord, Voldemort, which was the purpose of that night. A few weeks before, the couple had been engaged. The magnificence of the celebration was amazing. It was as if it was already the wedding._

_On that fateful night, Lucius would be bound to something far more important than responsibility, but he would be bound to honor._

_And along with all he had to live for: the Malfoy fate._

_They approached the end of the hall almost all too fast. Lucius was familiar with this part. Before his father, stood a monstrous engraving of mass muggle slaying in the middle ages. In the center, there were men being hanged by warlocks and muggle women stripped of their honor before their struggling husbands before they were put to death. At the side of the huge brass frame, there were goblins and gargoyles terrorizing the muggle children. Amadeus considered this as an excellent portrayal of a pastime… a tradition if you may. Narcissa, when she saw it, called it horrendous and so did Morticia, Lucius mother. Lucius, with his own view of the painting, called it... a masterpiece._

_Amadeus stepped on a small platform before the engraving and it was automatically hidden from sight. Lucius grimaced, 'If Narcissa saw this, she would probably say "Thank God"' he thought._

_In it's place stood a descending stairs, sort of like a muggle escalator going down spirally. Amadeus stepped down first and his son followed. _

_The descending stairway was dark and creepy, and it seemed like an eternity before they were able to reach the bottom of it. Eventually, the foot of the stairs was the entrance of a room and at the end of the room was a colossal brass door facing the stairwell. _

_The enormous brass door Lucius and his father now stood before opened silently. Beyond them was one of the most magnificent investiture chambers the wizarding world has ever built. The room was a long hall that led to a wide circular stage with a serpent engraved upon the center table. Torches that held jade flames illuminating the way were built upon the huge posts of the hallway. The walls were very old; anyone could observe that. The large stone bricks were darkening at the edges due to the hundred years of silence and inactivity._

_In the distance, the assembly stood waiting. The Death Eaters of the inner circle stood around the center table while the servants of the outer circle stood behind them, and in the center, was the ever-glorious Tom Marvolo Riddle, Lord Voldemort._

_Lucius stood in slight awe and admiration. Amadeus Malfoy cleared his throat as to catch Lucius' attention. The young boy took one last look at his father before following him on to the assembly._

_As the dark lord stood in waiting, he pondered on the thoughts of the boy approaching him. The boy, in a few moments would be pledged to his loyalty. He probed his mind and soul of inner thoughts of regret and characteristics of disloyalty. He gave a slight malevolent smile at the fact that he had found none. _

_'He would not be a problem' he thought. 'He is loyal, very loyal.' _

_Voldemort could see the look on Lucius face as he felt uncertainty as the dark lord continued to search his thoughts. He probed his experiences, his philosophy and his point of view. He seemed a perfect follower, it seemed that there would be no possibility that he would ever fail him. To the dark lord's satisfaction, he found no defect in the boy. There was still one thing to check... the imminent. The dark lord showed an expression of sudden anger because to his displeasure, he had sensed something, a flaw, and a flaw not in the boy himself but in his son to be._

_It was something he could not quite put his finger on. Funny, Riddle thought; there was almost never anything he could not foretell about one person who willingly opened up his mind when he saw them and observed his personality. 'How could this boy who stood before him, a perfect follower, loyal and respectful, boar a child who could be just the opposite?' He thought. It would be a mistake would let the boy's son be a follower of his when there was a possibility that it would lead to his fall. Or, that could lead to other possibilities._

_But then, he realized that that was not the only possibility. There was one possibility that amused him, and at the same time, for the first time in years left him fearful.  It could be that Lucius Malfoy's son would be much greater than his father? Or his fear, could this boy's son be greater that him, the dark lord. He could be a threat, or… the perfect heir… _

_Voldemort smiled, it surely would be a good future, and the possibilities would be great._

_"My lord," began Amadeus Malfoy. " I present to you my son… Lucius Avarin Dresáous Malfoy,"_

_Lucius had never been uncertain about anything in his life, and he had always thought that he would be the greatest of all men. But now, as he proved himself to be wrong… now, that he stood before a greater man… what would he do?_

_A stern glance from his father told him to bow, to kneel, and for once… to show respect. So he did, he knelt and bowed before the dark lord._

_"Arise Lucius… or do you prefer to kneel? It will lessen the pain…" said Voldemort._

_The boy looked up at him and smiled, diabolically… _

_"I know not pain greater than my own life my lord. Pain shall not be an object of though if there are greater things to consider, I will stand," he said bravely._

_Voldemort gave a slight smile of satisfaction. Brave, brave and very honorably proud._

_"Very well, an excellent choice. As well said, and I have to say… I am proud,"_

_"Thank you my lord,"_

_'I am proud'… those three simple words, funny, Lucius could not remember one instance when his father had ever uttered those words. Especially of him, but he was used to it. He was used to the iron curtain that had been between them for almost forever._

_One of the Death Eaters presented a green velvet clad case before the Dark Lord, and form it, rose Tom Riddle's school wand._

_The wand was kept most of the time, because the dark lord had partially mastered wandless magic and once he did, he would not need a wand. _

_But for the task of conjuring the dark mark, he still needed it. It was still sacred to him; it was the symbol of his spreading evil back at Hogwarts and the muggle world. He knew one day, his keeping of that wand would do some good to him._

_"Bring forth your left arm Lucius Malfoy,"_

_Without hesitation, the young boy did as he was told and held his pale left arm out to the Dark Lord._

_Without a moment's waste of time, Voldemort began chanting._

_"Illusio Morsmordre Apyradomarsi Divaiatum**"**_

_Lucius could not remember what had come first, the luminous green light or the excruciating pain that flowed through out his body sending violent spasms up his spine as he took the full blow of the effect of the conjuring of the dark mark upon his fore arm._

_Lucius withstood all of that, for he knew that he had to reflect pain. He had to feel numb against the soreness and hurt. He did this by envisioning his future after he had finally been initiated._

_After a few moments the bright green light subsided and every one in the hall became clear to view._

_The snake and skull that now branded it now tarnished Lucius' once white arm._

_He was a Death Eater._

_~~*_

The Hogwarts grounds were peaceful and quiet now, it was close to dawn and the student body lay resting in their dormitories. The dawn would be coming in a matter of hours and the school would be alive with busy students and teachers running around the hallways doing their daily deeds.

But… until then, the castle would be peaceful… quiet and not minding of the thoughts of one person, musing in the depths of the Slytherin dungeon.    

The Slytherin common room was dimly lit. The green flames in the walls have subsided a bit as the population in the room decreased from after the first years welcoming party. It had been a stressful night but _he_ still sat awake upon the black leather clad couches in the common room.

He did not even know why he did not tire that night. 

Draco smiled to himself as he watched the dancing flames in the fireplace. He usually felt irking for trouble, typically, he would be lurking the Hogwarts halls silently and walking…alone, and he did not care if he did it unaccompanied.

But not tonight, there was something bothering him…

In three months, Lucius had scheduled for him to meet the dark lord. It did not bother him because he was fearful. He feared nothing. But it bothered him because of the fact that he had to face someone who had proven to be a source of his misery… the source of so much suffering and ill will in the wizarding world. After all Draco had been raised by the dark lord's principles… the dark lords virtues… the dark lord's belief… and he had lived by all of this because his father was pledged to his loyalty. His father whom he had naively once thought was the greatest man on earth… But the truth struck him straight in to odium.

His father fell under another who valued him very little. He had pledged his life to an opportunistic man who prided himself because of his 'power'. But where was he now? Probably living as a scavenger in the forests of Albania…

And as time passed, Draco realized, no servant of the dark lord could ever be great; they could never be considered as that, they could only be considered as beings less than fools.

He thought of Lucius that way… It's just that he could not say that to his face now could he?

He thought of the future, two years from now then when he would become one of those people he considered fools. Would he be the greater fool and surrender himself to something he thought so negatively about? Draco smirked. He guessed he would. Would the dark lord sense this? It was once said that he could probe the thoughts of one person merely standing before him. But, it was also said that he had lost this characteristic when he was defeated sixteen years ago. When he was defeated by a one-year-old. When he was defeated by non other than Harry Potter. 

Then his thoughts turned to Potter; the boy he loathed. The boy who had been the source of all the misfortunes the dark side had to face ever since the fall of Voldemort. 

The perfect Harry Potter. The good, brave and fearless Harry Potter… A friend to all. It made Draco sick. Draco hated him for all he was… maybe because… he was jealous of him.

There could be no greater difference between two people in the world. 

At first, Draco thought that Harry was the unluckiest person alive. Having lost his parents at such a young age, having to live with muggles, having such filth for friends, Weasley and Granger… and fighting on the loosing side… the light side.

He thought he was lucky, because he still had his parents, his family was prestigious and his reputation was great… he was a pureblood. There could be no greater family honor in the wizarding world. But then as the years went by, Harry had proved to be what Draco had thought he himself was… perfect.

Yes, it was true that he still had his parents, while Harry had lost his, but Draco never knew love, all he knew was coldness. He began to wonder how could Harry know more care and happiness that he his when he had less than Draco had… And he knew the answer to that… It was that all of what he had didn't actually matter… Though he would never admit that he could possibly not half the man Harry was, he knew it. No matter how pathetic the world thought of him, he still had something… and that was his pride. Though Draco would rather die than admit it, he sometimes wondered what it would be like to be Harry. What it would be like to be the hero and the one who almost always had the last laugh.

Would it make any difference if he were not rich, powerful and influential? Sometimes, he wondered what it would be like to be under the circumstances of someone like Voldemort… Having others serve him rather than being the one who served. Maybe he thought, he could be greater… far, far greater.

Draco sighed. He remembered something looking through those dancing blue –green flames. It was something he had given up to just that night.

It was her...

Blaise…

~~

_'Her eyes, blue dancing flames… sapphire ambiance. Prying… Probing…Staling your gaze, stealing your mind, stealing your soul… killing you softly and painlessly…beautiful… but deadly.' _

~~

While it was true that Malfoy never knew love, he pledged never to make any other person know it by the means of him loving them.

Draco didn't really love Blaise… what they had was something a little bit less than that. It was an understanding between them that broke barriers of friendship ever since they were children. It wasn't that they actually cared for each other… it was that they were always brought together at times when one of them had plights. They needed each other in a strange way that didn't involve true affection.

That night, it was to be that they were to be closer than before… but Draco knew. It would always be the same… Even though they were going out then, it would always be as it was.

But then, she would be his, and he would have the ultimate Slytherin's desire… the best woman in the house. No one other would have the claim to her but him; it was sweet possession. 

"Draco? What are you doing up at this hour…?" came a light voice from the darkness of the Slytherin common room. 

Speak of the devil.

Draco turned his gaze away from the fires and turned to face her. Blaise was dressed in a ravishing silk emerald green piece of lingerie. Her dark features looking upon him sitting on the leather-clad couch. _Why look at the fire when I can stare at her eyes?_ He thought puckishly, A_nd I can stare at something more… _

She, seemingly annoyed at not receiving an answer propped her right hand upon her slender waist. "Have I been talking to the bloody walls or didn't you hear me?"

Blaise took a few steps towards the couch Draco was sitting on and instantly, the distinctive aroma of her Strawberries and Champagne perfume filled the air. The scent unfortunately had a tendency to turn Draco on. That with the ravishing sight of her auburn curls cascading down her back almost flowing past her shapely bottom, and her cat-like eyes flashing at him, was a grateful addition to the package. 

Draco gazed at her wonderful features. He had the look of irony in his eyes, which struck her like a cold rod of steel piercing in to her spine.

"Is something the matter?" she asked timidly, slowly approaching him.

Draco took her hands and pulled her to him.

"Nothing my pet," he said as he welcomed her on to his lap. "I just feel tireless,"

Blaise smiled as she relaxed in his arms bringing a hand to his cheek. 

"Tireless? The party wasn't enough to wear you out… My, my… you are truly a man," She whispered huskily as she began to nuzzle his cheek tenderly. Draco closed his eyes and tried to enjoy the sensation… but that was just it; he couldn't. 

It was like he was sitting in a train engine by the fire, burning… and yet he didn't feel a thing. Numbness ran through his entire body.

Blaise was fire all right, the hottest around in the cold Slytherin dungeons…. But there was just something in him she couldn't quite touch. Draco figured, that if she couldn't, she knew then no other woman could ever.

Draco put a hand on her waist and pulled her closer as he began nipping her neck. Blaise groaned as he did this, obviously enjoying the sensations. Draco wasn't affected, but he'd be a git if he didn't give her an enjoyable time in his arms.

His fingers crept up her legs as his mouth crept up her face did to claim her luscious red lips. He pressed his lips against hers and as she gasped, his tongue invaded the crevices and folds of her mouth. Blaise' tongue dueled with his and pushed in to his mouth with equally strong pressure. Draco's hand slid up her negligee and touched her bottom tenderly. The pressure enticed her.

Blaise wrapped her arms around him and kissed him harder, while her hands pulled at his shirt almost ripping out the buttons to reveal his chest. 

She then put one of her hands inside of his shirt while transferring her lips to his neck. Draco pressed her slender body closer to his as she did this.

"I love you…" she moaned without thinking. 

But realizing that she had said this she instantly pushed away from him and stood up with her back to him. She pulled the strap of her negligee back on to her shoulders.

She looked away from him embarrassingly. Her cheeks were turning blood red.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly and then she attempted to run back to the prefect's dormitory. How could she have said something so stupid? It was like a childish outburst that came out of her mouth at random, and the funny thing was… She meant it.

She had to run… she had to be far from him before he would have a memory of her embarrassment. 

But a strong hand held her back. 

"Stop it," Draco said firmly as he pulled her to him.

"I'm sorry for that Draco, I assure you I will never act this way again."

She looked in to his eyes and pulled away from him as she ran to her chambers.

She had just given in to her feelings, to a woman of her stature; that, was disgraceful. Why, if her mother saw her now, she would have considered disinheriting her. 

With all honesty, she did love Draco, but she wasn't supposed to admit it. Admitting it made it final… would be admitting truth. She was not supposed to do that. Not until he had his hold on her. But by saying it, did she loose her strength? Was she less than she was just because she had admitted to that simple fact. No, she decided, she would not be weak. Even if it were true; what she had said, she would not be weak. Not ever again. In his eyes she would always be strong.

And that would be the last time she would ever be embarrassed. She promised that to herself.  

~

Draco closed his eyes in satire as he sat back down on the couch and straightened his shirt pushing the soft fabric down with his palms. The supposed strongest woman he had ever been with, had fallen. A pity. Draco was beginning to think that he didn't need a woman by his side to be great.

He was sixteen and he had the mind to think about such things. But that was how his father wanted it to be. He wanted Draco to be mature.

As much as Draco wanted to please his father, he would have hated to agree with that conceited bastard… even if it meant his life.

But still, it wasn't Blaise' fault that her tongue had slipped. Draco was vain but despite that fact; even someone who loathed him could say that he was charming and handsome enough to make even the strongest girl fall for him, if not saying it then thinking it at least. Of course, someone who despised him would rather die than admitting it.

He would be willing to bet the Malfoy fortune on that… for he believed that there was not one woman who would dare resist his charms.

~~*

"Hermione, Hermione…"

Hermione looked up and Hermione closed her book and turned to the door from where she had heard a shrill girl's voice calling her name.

It was a Saturday morning and here she was sitting in her dormitory, reading a thousand-page novel. To Hermione, it was the most sensible thing to do. But clearly, she couldn't have chosen anything more boring.

"Hermione," Hermione recognized the voice, it was Lavender.

"In here…" she said.

Lavender's footsteps became louder pounding on the stone floor of the hallway as Hermione heard her approach.

She was walking rather fast from what Hermione could hear. She probably wanted her to try out her new perfume creation. Ugh… an expression of disgust filled her face, there was nothing worse that could ruin her day, ending up smelling like a pile of rotten meat.

"Hermione, thank God I found you…" breathed Lavender as she entered Hermione's prefect dormitory.

Hermione's glance went to Lavender's hands. _No bottles, that's a good sign._

"I need you to do me a favor" she said, as she came closed in to the room.

"And what would that be?" asked Hermione meticulously. She motioned her hand for Lavender to sit down on one of the red velvet covered couches as she moved over to the end of the room.

"I need that silkening potion you used on your hair last year at the Yule Ball… Please… It's kind of an emergency," pleaded the blonde haired girl.

"Let me guess… Date with Mandy…" said Hermione teasingly, as she moved over to the drawers to search for a book.

Lavender was always, the girl you'd expect to see with a new boy almost every week. Hermione couldn't blame her… because she was beautiful, charming and intelligent. From what Hermione had been hearing, Ravenclaw's Mandy Broklehurst was her latest conquest.

Hermione grinned. "Well am I right?" She began to rummage through her closet, trying to find the book from where she took the formula for the Hair Silkening potion. 

"Not exactly…" said Lavender derisorily.

Hermione dropped the book on to the floor.

"What? Changed already!?" she asked rather shocked. "Then who is it?"

"Umm…Hermione, if I say something you don't like… do you promise not to bite me?" asked Lavender cautiously. She had a feeling that Hermione wasn't going to like what she would be hearing. Lavender wasn't sure, but there was no harm in being vigilant. 

"I hardly bite Lavender… but it depends. Now who is it?" said Hermione as she brought the book over to her friend. She sat herself down on the couch beside Lavender.

"That's just it Hermione,"

"Well?" asked Hermione curiously.

"Umm… it's…. Ron," Said Lavender timidly.

Hermione took a while to take this in. It wasn't that she was affected in that way… It was just that she was surprised that Lavender would think that she would be.

"Well, congratulations on getting a date with my best friend," she said conscientiously, choosing her words carefully. She didn't want to make the impression that she was jealous, because she was certainly not.

Lavender's eyes seemed to light up with sudden happiness as Hermione spoke.

"You're not mad?" she said almost joyously.

"No, why should I be?" 

"I thought that… You and Ron…"

"Well you thought wrong…" Hermione retorted. "Honestly, gossip tends to twist the truth a bit sometimes. Now here's the book, the potion is on page 216 I believe…"

Lavender smiled. "Thanks Hermione"

"Anytime… and good luck on your date…" said Hermione as Lavender waved leaving the room.

She smiled wearily. There had been rumors about she and Ron dating rushing about all through out the school. But of course, none of them were true.

All of those incidents were purely coincidental. When Harry was not around and there was only the two of them together. Alone. It seemed that those moments came all too often. But Hermione didn't mind and so did Ron. 

They both knew that the closest the both of them could ever be to each other was best friends, and Hermione was happy with that. She was happy with the fact that there would be always people who stood up for her no matter what. Not as her lover or something more than that, but as her true friend. 

Hermione knew that her friendship with Harry and Ron was worth it, because she believed; that sometimes, friendship lasted longer than love.

But too often, she wondered silently to herself, what would it be like to have that special someone in her life. Hermione was a girl, no matter what Ron had ranted on about in their fourth year… and girls loved to be flattered and liked it even more to be desired. It wasn't any different to her, 'but' she sighed thoughtfully 'will anyone ever notice?'

Hermione returned to her book after a few moments and ended up reading it for the whole hour until she decided to get some extra reading done in the library that morning.

~~*

Ginny was in the library. Hermione saw her fiery red head as soon as she entered the enormously large room.

The young girl saw her as well as she waved a happy Hello to her and invited her to sit with her.

"Hallo Ginny, and what makes you decide to stay here for the afternoon?"

Ginny smiled knowingly, she had a hunch that Hermione knew the exact words that she would answer her question with.

"Harry and Ron's ranting about Quidditch in the common room. Honestly boys, could be very annoying, without them even knowing" she said with a hint of remaining annoyance at the two boys.

Hermione twisted a lock of hair around her finger as she smiled back at her young friend.

"I know," she replied with irrevocability and conclusiveness. Hermione creased her forehead at the thought of her two friends and smiled slightly. 

Hermione looked at the shelves of books beside the tables and stood to find good reference for their Monday class. The sixth years would be starting on advanced astronomy and transfiguration this year and being the smarty pants that she was, Hermione wanted to get some points for her house. After all she had Gryffindor pride running through her veins.

"Ginny, I'll be back…" she said trotting over to the isles of books.

"Of course," called Ginny from behind her.

~~

The bookshelves were packed and pilled with books, a lot more that before. Hermione heard that the library had received twenty-seven crates of new books from the Magical Order of Educationists and Scholars over the summer and had admitted an approximate count of nineteen thousand more copies.

Delighted with the news, Hermione could think of anything else but reading the whole lot ever since she read the news in the daily prophet while on the Hogwarts Express.

Straying over to the fifth isle, which was the history section, Hermione began to scan the shelves for interesting titles. 

Of the new books she observed, she found revised copies of Magical History. She didn't bother to read them now, though she had plans to. Because she had browsed through the original copies almost all throughout her fifth year.

Reaching the end of the isle, something caught her eye. A black leather-clad book with bright green letters printed down its spine. It was one of the books she hadn't considered reading all throughout her life as a bookworm.

It was entitled; The Path Of Daggers; A Brief History of The Magical Dark Arts. Hermione stared at the book. Usually, she thought, books like these were kept in the restricted section. But here it was now, in her hands.

Maybe it was about time she read books like it.

The Dark Arts History books weren't exactly prohibited, they did not exactly teach Dark Magic anyway but they provided an inside historical documentary on how they evolved. Hermione had not intention to practice the dark arts, but curious of their content she decided to read the book. 

~~*

Sitting on one of the corners of the library work area was Draco Malfoy. He was almost at the end of his Arithmancy essay on charted codes as a method of coding magical maladies and forbidden spells. It was supposed to be an assignment over the summer, but at the last moment, Draco had found that he was one page short, and that led him to redo the entire essay – in less than three hours.

"Done," he breathed in relief as he lay down his eagle-feather quill on the table. Putting away his pieces of parchment, Draco decided that he would start looking for a book his father told him to find before the beginning of the Christmas season.

Draco knew that it was a very long way until then, after all the school year had barely started, but still, it would be a good idea to have a head start on uncovering that specific book.  

Lucius didn't say, but Draco had a pretty good idea what the book was. Or… what it concealed within its pages.

Standing up abruptly, he laid his books at the side of the table and walked towards the dark arts history section – the section he referred to as; the only sensible section of the library.

He passed Ginny Weasley on the way. From what he could see, she was reading on advanced transfiguration. _She had to stop hanging out with Granger_, he thought. Draco smirked, _if she had her effects on Ginny, the young Weasley would be yet another smarty pants herself._

Draco turned to the right to walk down the isle of the history section, when he found the very person he had been curiously thinking about.

"Granger," he said scornfully.

Hermione turned to her right as she heard him speak. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the figure standing a few meters from her. 

Hermione avoided looking in to his eyes at all costs. She had an inkling that the same thing that happened on the train would happen again if she did.

Draco looked at Hermione's meager frame at the end of the isle looking at him with disgust. Somewhere in his mind, he knew that he couldn't stand the sight of her, because she was a mudblood: something lower than him. Someone of bad blood, but ironically the only one who had the guts to show disrespect to him when she found herself insulted. Not because she prided herself to be able to do that to him, and not because she believed him to be lower than her… but because she knew that no matter what he said, he deserved it.

Hermione decided that she would leave; it would waste her time to argue with Malfoy, and much more… it would be blatantly useless. 

Unfortunately, she forgot one thing… Draco Malfoy never wanted to be walked away from.

"If you had any shame left in you Granger, you wouldn't leave like that," he said firmly, eying her with irritation as she took a few steps down the isle.

Hermione caught the faint glimmer in his eyes as he looked at them straight for the first time.

"It doesn't matter if I am ashamed of my actions or not Malfoy," said Hermione matter-of-factly. "I know very well that even if I do stay, you will have nothing decent to say to me…"

Draco smirked wearily. "A good presumption, Granger… I think you know me too well,"

Hermione laughed slightly, then walked towards him, in an attempt to walk out of the isle entirely.

"I'd like you to know I will not take that as a complement Malfoy…"

Draco eyed her with scorn. He held his arm out and rested his arm on the opposite shelf to stop her from passing.

"I know, I didn't ask you to…"

Hermione glared at him cynically as he did this. Draco on the other hand, found it amusing. He had royally pissed her off.

"Not going to walk away again now are you?" said Draco

Hermione frowned and faced Draco with her snottiest look. 

"For your information Malfoy, Yes I am…" she stated acerbically. "And if you intend to 'punish' me for my ill-mannered behavior then go ahead…" she continued, remembering the incident of the train.

Draco looked her over. He observed her courage 'A true Gryffindor' he thought 'Brave…' he smirked and ironically raised his eyebrow at her '…but foolish'

"Really now… I'd love to Granger, but unfortunately, I don't want to get my hands dirty… and soiled; by your disgusting mudblood filth" he spat at her.

Hermione bowed her head in resentment as he said this. She hated him with a passion for being the git that he was. She hated him for being mean to Harry, Ron and her. She knew better than to pay respects to him as the entire school did because she knew that he was not estimable of that respect. After all, he was nothing without his status, wealth and influence. Without all that, Draco could be considered a man as dishonorable as a common thief.

She looked up at him with derision.

"What is it with you Malfoy? You walk around like you are the boss of everyone, like you actually have control over what everybody is supposed to do…" she almost screamed at him, but contained her anger. "But do you know what the truth is? It's that you have no right to treat anyone that way! I'm beginning to wonder if your entire race is that way… Are you Malfoy? Is your father the same way… or maybe worse? No wait, you don't need to answer that, I know your father is worse, much worse. And maybe you'll be the same way as well won't you? You'll be the same ill-natured—"

Draco clenched his fist in anger. He looked at the small girl before her, the only girl who had the courage to speak to him in such a manner. The one who believed that he never deserved anything he was given credit for. But Draco knew he did; deserve something. Anything she said meant nothing to him. She was nobody to him. She was nothing.

Her words didn't make a difference… or so he forced himself to think that. It was true wasn't it? Granger knew nothing about him, and she didn't have the right to say anything against him.

"You don't know anything about my father Granger!" he spat at her coolly as his eyes narrowed.

She took a step backwards as he said this. "I know enough Malfoy, I know enough to think that he deserves nothing less than sheer repugnance from me. I even pity you—"

"You don't have the right to have sympathy for me Granger, remember that you're nothing but a mudblood…" he said almost angrily as he looked down at the calm girl standing before him. 

"You'd be lucky if I ever decided to feel that for you,"

"You're a Death Eater, what else should I feel towards you?"  

Malfoy took a step towards her as she continued to look at him fearlessly. Hermione held the book closer to her chest, her mind vaguely wondered if he would attempt to hurt her again. He raised his left arm and let the black sleeve of his cloak fall to reveal a white, flawless fore arm. 

There was no mark. Hermione released a breath, and for a moment, it occurred to her that it was a breath of relief.

Draco slowly put his arm down as he observed Hermione's evidently calmed features.     

She looked up at him and saw his blank look. For a moment she wanted to speak but her words remained caught in her throat and nothing passed but moments of silence. Draco's eyes clouded as she looked at them. The deep gray color mesmerized her. For a moment, they seemed comforting… Hermione looked away, since when did she start to associate Malfoy with the word comforting?

Draco's eyes flickered as Hermione turned her head away from his gaze. In the back of his mind, he willed himself to come up with a witty comeback, but strangely it ceased to matter.

Draco tore his gaze from face and turned abruptly in the other direction leading out of the library. It was as if something clicked, he realized that he didn't have to stand around with a mudblood like her. 

Hermione looked at his retreating figure as he left the library. She drew in a faint breath. Suddenly, it registered in her mind what he had shown her to prove that it was true; he wasn't a Death Eater. The mark was not there. 'At least' she thought 'not yet'. 

Hermione felt an anomalous feeling in her stomach then. It felt oddly amusing being the one walked away from this time.

~~*

"Harry, Harry I've found it!" came Ron's all too familiar voice as he came rushing in to the Great Hall at breakfast. Harry looked up almost instantly as he gulped down a slice of pumpkin pie. (A/N: Nah I'm not an H/Hr… Never will be in fact.)

Ginny looked up at her brother as he came running in with a small brown box tied with bright blue ribbons.

"What's that Ron?" she asked almost instantly as she looked at Hermione caught up in reading Revised Advanced Transfiguration Guide, a book about as thick as one of the steps leading up to the Gryffindor- Girls Dormitory. She fairly wanted her to share a bit of enthusiasm. But Hermione didn't seem to notice that Ron even entered the great hall.

"I don't think that is any of your business" said Ron matter-of-factly at his sister. Ginny scowled in irritation.

"Mind you, I don't think that you have the right to keep secrets from me…" she replied.

"Says who?" 

"Says me… and if you don't want mum to know about that little incident last summer…" she stated with a knowing smile. Ron's eyes widened at the thought.

"Blackmailed by my own sister… Alright, alright I'll tell you later" he said as he stuffed the box into his tote bag. He glanced at Hermione for a while and was relieved to see that she was lost in her own book world again. She probably didn't even hear a word he said. Ginny smiled with content.

"Where did you find it?" asked Harry as he finished his breakfast, wiping his mouth with a white napkin.

"In my trunk, it was buried under the lot of Quidditch comics…" said Ron with a smile of satisfaction.

Ginny poked at her food as Harry and Ron talked. Unfortunately, his mention of Quidditch comics didn't stop there. This was becoming a ritual… Ginny looked up as she noticed Harry laugh at a joke about Percy. Ginny was always comforted when she heard Harry's laugh; his laugh was light, relaxed, not like any of her brother's heavy howling with the exception of Percy of course. Percy almost never laughed, he was serious and composed always… or at least he tries to be. But Harry's laugh was different from the other boys… It was too bad she was the only one who noticed.

Ginny pushed a lock of her red hair from her face behind her ear as she leaned back further in her chair. Harry had always been her idea of perfect; she never admired anyone more than him. Perhaps she had a line of crushes every now and them but she could not put her finger on what Harry had that other boys didn't. Even before she had entered Hogwarts, she had admired Harry. Her admiration grew even larger when she actually met him, it was like her vision was created… and she found out that it was better than imagining. But that was a long time ago and she had accepted that she was loving hopelessly. She knew that she was, which was why she did away with her love for him in their fifth year. It seemed, a good enough choice, at least now she could talk to him openly about things.

"Ginny? Did you hear me?" came Hermione's voice as it broke in to her thoughts.

"Uhm… What were you saying," She said absentmindedly as she realized that all three of them were staring at her. Harry grinned a bit as he did and Ginny's cheeks turned a bright shade of crimson.

"I said that we are going to class now, its half past eight and time for Charms.," said Hermione as she stood up, stuffing the thick Transfiguration book in her bag. Ron stood up as well, following Hermione towards the door of the Great Hall. 

"Are you coming Ginny" asked Harry quietly "We'll walk you to Transfiguration, it's just a few rooms off anyway…"

Ginny looked up and saw Harry's kind green eyes looking at her as he waited for her answer.

"N-no… I think I'll read a bit before I get to class… it starts at nine anyway" she said.

Harry smiled at her and stood up. Ginny watched him walk over to the doors of the great Hall following Ron and Hermione. As they left, she sighed inwardly.

~~*

Hermione smiled to herself as they entered the Charms classroom, with the satisfaction that they had entered class early. Harry and Ron took seats beside Lavender and Parvati, Ron almost instantly jumping in to conversation with Lavender. 

Hermione sat beside them as she saw that the bench still had some space to spare. She began unpacking her scrolls of parchment and quill from her bag and set it on to her desk. The crowded classroom was filled with voices and laughter as the sixth year population of Slytherins and Gryffindors waited for the teachers to come. Earlier in the week, Professor Arabella Fig, who was the new Defense Against the Dark arts instructor had mentioned of a little treat for the sixth years which was also a requirement for three of their requisite subjects that year. Hermione who took multiple courses that included the semi due subjects such as Arithmancy and Divination, thought it unfair to only grade them in specific subjects but had no choice and had to concur.

Professor Figg had mentioned that they were to be graded in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms and Care of Magical Creatures. The last subject implied that they would be handling creatures and to Harry and Ron that was good news. Though the professor didn't mention the exact project that the sixth years would be required to conduct, she did mention that all that would not be solitary work and they were to work in teams which lessened the work load for each of them.

The Charms classroom, which was filled with noise just a few moments ago, had slowly, began to grow quiet as Professors Flitwick, Snape, Mc Gonagall, Fig and Hagrid entered the room. Ron and Harry grinned as Hagrid almost ran in to the steel chandelier hanging from the ceiling as he entered the classroom. But fortunately, the room was situated in the north towers where all rooms were built with high ceilings.

From the class erupted giggles as Hagrid carried Flitwick up to stand on a stack of Charms books so that the entire class could see him. The small professor sent a nod of thanks to Hagrid as he cleared his throat preparing to speak.

"May I have your attention" he started as the class began to grow quiet. "Thank you, well I'm sure you're all wondering why almost all your professors are here…so let us begin shall we,"

Professor Snape and Mc Gonagall sat themselves on the chairs behind the platform of the classroom and observed the class.

"This year, the Ministry of Magic, Magical Training Department had requested a special project to be conducted among you sixth years. It is linked with the updating of information on the many magical beasts and creatures of the National Wizarding Library. Since the seventh years are caught up in too much work to spare time for yet another project and the fifth years are much too young to undertake this responsibility, the Hogwarts staff has chosen you sixth years to take part in this project" stated Professor Flitwick. Hermione leaned forward in her desk as she showed utter interest in the announcement. 

"Now I understand that you have an extensive knowledge on Magical Beasts from your past years of taking Defense Against the Dark Arts and Care of Magical Creatures courses so I think none of you will have difficulty in undertaking this venture. Let us have Professor Figg to extend more on the dealings of this activity. Arabella?" Professor Flitwick turned to Professor Figg as she stood before the class.

"Thank you, Professor Flitwick" the plump woman began as Professor Flitwick stepped down off the stack of books. "Now, It goes like this. You will all be assigned one species of a magical beast to study and research on in a span of three months. That period will start next week and will end on the beginning of your Christmas vacation, which will be the due date for all your results and findings. Professor Mc Gonagall has suggested a twenty rolls of parchment should be enough to cover all information on the creatures, such as the place of origin, matting habits, breeding grounds and many more… By the way, twenty rolls is not the maximum, it is the minimum number of scrolls you are required to submit by the end of the research period," At her words, the entire class groaned in protest and discrepancy. 

"Surely, that isn't too little. Why they should add a couple more hundred scrolls if they wanted us to really suffer," said Ron sarcastically as he sank in his chair. Hermione turned to glare at him when the professor started speaking once more.

"I understand that having to study a magical creature by oneself will be rather difficult and if I may say dangerous, so I have decided to group you in to teams of four, and those teams will all work on one creature. Is all clear?" she asked the class.

Everyone simultaneously agreed half groaning.

"And before I forget," added Professor Figg… "To be able to have a more analytical and exhaustive research; by the end of this month, we shall have a trip to the Museum of Magical beasts situated in the highlands of Northern France, specifically in the mountains of Les Avaloirs situated in the southern part of Orne…" suddenly, the atmosphere in the room became lighter as she said those words. "There, where many beasts are situated and studied, you will have a chance to observe your creatures in their simulated natural habitat. The museum is known for its many gardens, lakes and forests which are home to these animals in case you're wondering so I'm sure every single one of you will enjoy exploring the castle grounds as well as the mountain ranges where some creatures like the Midgard serpent and the Aziza are said to roam,"

The extensively wonderful description of the museum sent most of the students on a great sentiment of anticipation.

"Do you think we'll get the manticore?" asked Ron as he turned to Harry. "I hear they're fascinating creatures.

"I hope so, and if not, something better," replied Harry as he turned to Hermione "don't you think so Mione?"

"Yes, I've read that the Kelpie is good too, as long as you don't become its victim"

Ron turned to her. "What do you mean victim?"

"I've read that it is usually described as a black beast, part horse and part bull, with two sharp horns. It has the ability to change its shape and usually when it did, it would take the form of a beautiful white horse. If passers-by mounted the horse, it would immediately gallop into the water and drown the rider. The Kelpie would then eat the flesh of the drowned victim," She said in a manner that surprised Ron.

"Wicked!" he exclaimed. Lavender turned to him with disclosure. 

"You can't be serious Ron, those things are deadly," she said.

"Almost all magical creatures are actually, I've rarely read one story about a magical creature that did not involve some sort of deadly defense or ways of luring prey to them," said Parvati.

Professor Mc Gonagall stood up and positioned beside Professor Figg. "Students, your attention," she said.

"The teams are to be announced tomorrow during your Defense Against the Dark Arts class. As early as this I'd like you to know that we will not accept reorganizing groups… you are to be contented with the assigned team-mates… is that clear,"

"But what If I get partnered with Slytherins?" asked Ron an all too loud voice. The Slytherins turned to the Gryffindor side and started hissing at Ron.

"They were not supposed to hear that," said Ron turning to Harry. His ears were beginning to turn bright red.

"As if any of _us_ would want you for a team-mate Weasley… Keep your dreams to yourself," came a voice behind them, Hermione recognized it almost instantly as she turned to the backbenches of the other side of the room to look at him. Ron and Harry did the same thing. As she feared, it was Malfoy.

"Sod off Malfoy," said Ron as he turned his gaze back to the teachers. Ron was positive that Mc Gonagall would not let that pass easily.

"Sod off yourself weasel," retorted Draco.

"Mr. Malfoy, that is enough!" said Mc Gonagall, her stern voice echoed off the walls of the large room. "And Mr. Weasley… that is the point. Professor Dumbledore has requested inter house pairings, you all know how he is. So I have no choice but to impose this," she said in an evidently half-disappointed tone indicating that she did not approve of it.

Ron groaned and sunk lower in his seat. Harry gave him a comforting look and smiled. 

"We'll be in the same team, don't worry," Harry whispered.

Ron raised his gaze to Lavender who looked at him with a smile. 

~~*

"Draco it's not right!" snapped Blaise as Draco paced around incessantly in front of her.

Draco glared at her as he stopped in front of her.

"And since when does a Slytherin do what is right?" he spat. His heart was pounding against his ribcage and he felt spasms of pain every five minutes or so. It was like his burning of his father's letter had something to do with it, because it had been seconds after he had thrown it in to the fire when he had fallen on to a couch of his room. 

It was as if his father was putting him under the Cruciatus curse for not regarding his requests. 

"Listen to your father, he knows what is right. He cares for you Draco, " persisted Blaise. "He's doing this for the best,"

"My father doesn't care for me, " Draco muttered as he felt that numbness running through his body once more. He took a seat on the couch as Blaise sat across from him. "He cares for his heritage, his promises to the dark lord,"

"How can you say that Draco?" she tried continuing to reason with him, but Blaise knew that he was as stubborn as his father. Strangely, no matter how much Draco claimed to dislike Lucius, they shared to many common traits that proved they were father and son. They also had the power to shatter a woman's will as it had been with Blaise' mother and Lucius Malfoy. Blaise knew this; her mother had relayed their very short-lived love story to her so many times. As she remembered every occurrence her mother had relayed, she silently began to wonder if the same would happen to her and Draco. Lucius Malfoy had broken many women's hearts, and he had done so with not a trace of guilt.

Draco took a deep breath as he continued to speak; he chose to ignore the lack of feeling running through his body at the moment. "He never cared for me, and you know it! I don't see why he wants to present me to the dark lord at the age of sixteen… I'm not supposed to be presented until I'm nineteen…"

"You should be proud, it is an honor—" 

"An honor? Do you could call lowering yourself to another person and serving as his slave an honor? My father might have accepted that but I don't want to…" retorted Draco. He turned his gaze to the fireplace of his room; where the ashes of Lucius Malfoy's burned letter remained. "It's degrading to do such a thing!" he stormed.

"Tell him you're not yet ready then, surely your father will understand," said Blaise timidly.

"Blaise, Lucius and understand are words that simply don't go together… I'll be damned the day he finds it in him to understand me, he never understood my mother as well, but he married her, because he wanted an heir. But now, now that I am here, I, his rightful heir, he doesn't give a damn about me, about what I think," he said coolly, stating the obvious.

"But think about it Draco, your refusal to accept the Dark Lord will be a disgrace… Your father has chosen the best of all honors for you and here you are simply running away from it,"

Draco looked at her. Her eyes seemed pleading, like his actions worried her. But what would his refusal cause her anyway? Draco sighed wearily, he knew the answer to that; it would cause her the agony and torture of loosing him. 

As feeling began to run through his body, Draco stood up abruptly and headed for the door of his room. Blaise turned to see his fleeting figure walking towards the door. Nearing the door he spoke, looking back at her.

"I will… think about it…" he said serenely.

Upon the closing of the door, Blaise sighed. She hoped strongly that he would not slip away from her, because he meant too much to her. Though he barely noticed that fact, and though she was too pompous to admit it.

~~*

_"Lucius…"_

_Lucius Malfoy's body was suddenly chilled as the dark lord uttered his name. He looked up at him and was ready to answer him sincerely. His father stood behind him in all anticipation and wavering pride and satisfaction._

_"Yes, My lord…"_

_Voldemort gave a slight leer of satisfaction; hearing Lucius' obedient tone was music to his ears._

_"Do you think it an honor to be able to join me?" he said._

_Lucius did not hesitate in answering. "With all honesty, my lord,"_

_"Be it not your will?" he snapped. _

_"It is my will Lord Voldemort, though my father imposed it on me, I think of him a wonderful influence, for he leads me towards the path of honor and greatness. I would be a fool to denounce, that which has been so rightfully bestowed upon me. I accept this honor with all of my heart. For it will also be the will of my son in time…" he said with pride._

_Voldemort sneered once more. It was so good of him to touch the subject. An expression of anxiousness crept up the Dark Lord's deathly pale features._

_"Ahh Yes, A son…" he started fervently. "You see Lucius, as proof of your faithfulness and devotion to me, you must offer something of yours to me to establish trust… and of course loyalty…"_

_"Anything my lord, I promise to give you anything…" said Lucius with a determined look._

_Voldemort drew in a breath. "You see, all in this chamber, I have asked for something of any sort, and they willingly offered it to me… Many in this room, I have asked of a skill, or talent, " He said, looking about the large hall where the other Death Eaters stood assembled before him. "I have asked of a memory of something vital to them or an experience…as I have of your father," then he focused on the young Malfoy. "But of you Lucius, I ask of something different… It is curious that I am asking so, but in time… you shall see the importance of it,'' _

_"And what would that be my Lord?" Lucius asked eagerly, hanging on the Dark Lord's every word. _

_"I ask of your son Lucius," said the Dark Lord firmly._

_Lucius looked at Voldemort's face and was a bit horrified to see that he was deadly serious. He bowed his head a bit to contemplate. What would this man want of his son, the son he had yet to have, to ask him for something truly his own? Was it not enough to him that he had promised his son's loyalty? _

_"A son my lord?" he heard his fathers stern voice from behind him "But Lucius has not a wife… "_

_Voldemort turned to Amadeus Malfoy. " He will have Amadeus… in time" he then looked back at the young boy before him. "I understand he is already engaged. It is a wonderful start."_

_"Do you accept this favor Lucius?" he asked._

_Amadeus Malfoy looked at his son, fearing that he felt hesitancy._

_Lucius looked up at Voldemort before he spoke. It took everything in him to answer the Dark Lord's last question…_

_"Yes, my lord,"_

_~~* _

_"For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,_

_And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed;_

_And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,_

_And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!" _


	3. Eloquent Silence

_~~*_

_There is no God, no universe, _

_No human race, no earthly life, no heaven, no hell. _

_It is all a dream, a grotesque and foolish dream. _

_Nothing exists but you. And you are but a thought- a _

_vagrant thought, a useless thought, a homeless thought, _

_Wandering forlorn among the empty eternities…_

~~*

_Chapter Three: Eloquent Silence_

"Good Morning Class" said Professor Figg that morning as she smiled widely at her students. She strode over to the windows and pulled the cords to reveal a bright cloudless sky. 

Hermione who was sitting where the window was facing, smiled as she did this. The bright rays of the sun spread throughout the dark classroom and lightened things up a bit.

As the curtains flew open, she heard a slight shifting in the seats at the back part of the room and wasn't surprised to see non other that Draco Malfoy react almost violently to the sun reflecting through the glass windows when she turned around.

To Hermione, he almost seemed like a vampire who was allergic to the sunlight. But she brushed the thought aside, Malfoy may be diabolically evil in many ways but no matter how pale his skin seemed, that git just wasn't dead. _'If only he was…'_ Hermione thought. At first she regretted thinking that, but who was she to not? 

Blaise turned to him for a moment before turning back to the Professor. She kept her face cool, unlike the night before when she had a careless outbreak of emotions. But that was then and no one but Draco had seen it, now, that she was before the sixth year population she could not be caught showing her concerns publicly. 

"Now, I hope that you all feel comfortable in your seats," said Professor Figg as she faced the class once more. The four houses had their Defense Against the Dark Arts class altogether for that day because of the announcement for the creature study groups. 

The Ravenclaws were sited next to the Gryffindors and the Hufflepuffs preferred to stand next to the Ravenclaws rather than taking seats next to the Slytherins who unpleasantly shoed them away. 

Professor Figg's eyes darted to the Hufflepuffs. "Why aren't you seated? There's a lot of space next to this row…" she said. The Slytherins all set threatening looks at the Hufflepuffs that was telling them not to dare. 

It was Hannah Abbot who spoke up.

"We prefer to stand Professor Figg, there is not much space to accommodate us in that row and we are sure this will only be a moment…" Hannah said quietly.

"Bravest thing a Hufflepuff said, " said Malcolm Braddock. The Slytherin table erupted in laughter at his words.

"Five points from Slytherin!" said the professor as she turned back to Hannah and nodded. A faint memory returned to her thoughts of her days back in Hogwarts. She sighed, '_nothing has changed'. _The Slytherins sat glumly in their seats as the Professor turned to step back on the platform walking towards her desk.

Harry smiled a bit as he observed the Slytherin's smugness. 

"Got what was coming to them," whispered Ron beside him.

"They sure did, " said Harry.

Hermione shared their content; for one thing, she was surprised that Professor Figg took away points. To Hermione, it wasn't really in the impression because she seemed to be a calm and rational person who doesn't jump to conclusions.

"Now, settle down students. I'll be reading out the groups in a moment…as soon as I find the list" Professor Figg fumbled through her desk's drawers to find the piece of parchment. In a few seconds, she pulled a scroll from her desk and unrolled it in front of the class.

"Here it is, now I believe I've told you that you all will be grouped in fours?" she asked and upon receiving a mumbled confirmatory answer from the class. She began reading out the names.

"Hannah Abbot, Justin Flinch-Fletchley, Dean Thomas and Orla Quirky, you will be working on the Kelpie"

"Lavender Brown, Malcolm Baddock, Ernie Macmillan and Terry Boot you will work on the Banshee"

"I'm working with that git!" Lavender scowled. "And we have to work on the banshee too!"

Ron sent her a comforting smile as her face filled with smugness. "It'll be you three against him Lav, I think he'll have the right mind to keep his head down" Ron's warm features became more prominent as his smile widened. Lavender could not help but think how cute he looked as her cheeks burned with a pink blush. "And besides… the Banshee is not that bad,"

"Harry Potter, Mandy Broklehurst, Parvati Patil and Ron Weasley— the Urisk"

Harry and Ron slapped hands in the air in delight that they were teammates, and that the creature assigned to them wasn't a little flesh-eating demon. Parvati smiled at Harry as he looked at her with anticipation. Mandy was delighted as well, he had once seen a urisk; they were faerie like creatures that was part man and part goat. They lingered at waterfalls most of the time and that would give the group view to an enthralling scenery while observing the Urisk.

Hermione was happy for her friends that they were in the same group, but that didn't burn down the sinking feeling that she had that she had wanted be in that group. Hermione noticed that she was yet to be called, so she listened intently. Professor Figg hasn't said her name yet, she wondered who her team-mates were to be.

"Millicent Bulstrode, Vincent Crabbe, Blaise Zabini and Neville Longbottom— the minator"

Blaise slapped her forehead as she heard this, an interesting creature and she gets stuck with the morons.

Neville's eyes widened in horror as the two big-bodied Slytherins sent him a threatening stare.

"Poor Neville," said Hermione as she took in the look of horror on his face.

"He'll be scared out of the museum without even getting to see the minator… Bulstrode and Crabbe's faces will scare him to death…" joked Ron. Lavender and Parvati giggled.

Hermione glared at Ron.

"Hermione Granger, Seamus Finnegan, Padma Patil and Draco Malfoy— you shall research on… the siren," continued Professor Figg.

Hermione's eyes suddenly widened as she heard this, she turned to Harry beside her who was almost as shocked as she was. Malfoy? She had to work with that evil, malicious—

"Tell me I just heard wrong and she didn't say Malfoy… Tell me there's something wrong with my ears…" Hermione almost shouted causing some of her housemates to look at her as if she was an outpatient at St. Mungos.

"Unfortunately Hermione, your hearing is perfect…" said Lavender with a hint of sympathy. The way she talked it was like Hermione was in for an early death.

Hermione felt a feeling of uneasiness as she turned to look at that one person who she had least wanted to work with. 

Draco glared at her with such mirth; he never wanted to be near that mudblood and now they had to work together, for three long months. Malcolm and Goyle started laughing together and Hermione was almost sure that they were laughing at her. She heard a brisk and firm 'Shut Up" from Malfoy as the two quieted down a bit then he turned to her and glared at her once more.

Hermione turned back to Harry. "I can't work with him, I can't stand him!" said Hermione as she took a deep breath.

Harry put an arm around her and patted her back. "Don't worry, you'll have Seamus and Padma to work with…" said Harry reassuringly. "I don't think Malfoy would start on you while they're around,"

Hermione sighed; Harry made it seem like it was that simple. But the reality of it was; it wasn't. Malfoy wouldn't act civil to her just because they were working on something important. But Hermione didn't think that he would be uncooperative either, because he ranked a close second to her and worked for all the grades he got. Hermione realized that she was one of the few people that were aware of this, but when it came to grades, Draco Malfoy deserved every mark he got. 

"Ask for a swap then," said Ron. Lavender rolled his eyes at him. 

"Didn't you hear Mc Gonagall? She said that she wouldn't hear of it,"   

Hermione groaned, "Just my luck, the most interesting activity this year and I get stuck with Malfoy…" 

"It won't be that bad…" reassured Lavender.

"Lavender, 'bad' doesn't cover it," said Hermione.

~~*

_But it's wrong; the way fate draws them together_

_They cannot share this warmth together… because they don't know of its existence._

_They are forlorn and cursed to be together in this world… seemingly hating every moment of it,_

_Without even knowing that they share love_

_~~*_

Hermione closed the thick Arithmancy book after doing her homework with an angry grunt. Ginny looked at her curiously and turned back to her work. The trio along with Ginny was sitting in the dimly torch-lit Gryffindor common room finishing all homework assigned to them that day.

"So, have you asked Professor Figg about regrouping?" asked Ron sitting across her.  

Hermione looked at him with a hint of exasperation of her face and sighed. Harry sensed that she had been denied that fact.

"Guess not," said Harry softly as he scribbled a few more lines on his piece of parchment.

"She wouldn't hear of it, she said my reason was too shallow and the circumstances were not that grave to have a change of groups…" Hermione said miserably being once again reminded of the incident earlier that day. Right after their class, Hermione had approached the professor and had requested just that. Unfortunately, she was even scolded for being unreasonable. She had even told Hermione how disappointed she was in her for not being able to accept a challenge when these were one of a true Gryffindor's traits.

"That's really unfair," said Ron sharing her desolation "Having to work with Malfoy is a grave circumstance enough for a switch"

"I know but, my final grade depends on this project and I really have to do my best even if I do have to work with Malfoy," she grumbled. 

Harry looked at her sympathetically, he suddenly felt the need to walk on over to the other side of the table and give her a comforting hug, but prudently restrained himself. 

"I'll be up in my room," Hermione mumbled quickly as she turned to climb the steps to the Prefects Quarters.

She heard a prim G'night from her friends at the table in the common room and practically ran up the stone steps. 

~~*

Ginny sat in her prefect's quarters quietly reading sonnets from a muggle writer called Shakespeare that night. She had finished her charms essays right after Hermione had gone up to her room a few moments ago in the Gryffindor common room. It was getting late and she knew that in a few moments it would be midnight but she still kept herself awake. 

Earlier that night Harry and Ron had arranged Quidditch Practice the very next morning, which was a bright Saturday. The very first Hogsmeade weekend of the year. Ron insisted that Ginny watch them along with Hermione of course. Her older brother had also suggested that she persuade Lavender Brown to watch as well. 

The young Weasley caught the slight glint in her brother's eye and it confirmed her suspicions. As abhorrent as it sounded to her… she knew very well that her brother was very much in love with Lavender Brown.

Ginny was not really all so happy with that fact for she had developed a slight dislike for the girl ever since her fourth year. She found Lavender too spurious, too flirty to deserve any good man's attention. But she thought, who was she to interfere in with Ron's delight and contentment. He was her brother after all, and she really didn't want to make Ron feel bad.

Ginny decided that she would not, for as long as Lavender kept him happy and as long as her 'love' for her brother was not as illusory as Ginny thought she was, she would be satisfied as well.

Satisfied… When would she be ever completely satisfied with her self? Now, she thought of Ron and his satisfaction when she had yet to think of her own.

She knew that there was one person who could satisfy her completely. But she had decided a long time ago that it would be impossible for ages. She had known that fact since she was in her second year and now as the times passed, she had to conclude; a whirlwind romance between her and the boy who lived; Harry Potter would be forever impossible…

Ginny grunted in frustration. She drew her bedcovers aside and pushed herself out of bed. She determined that it was useless to torment herself with such foolish thoughts.

She stepped in to her bed slippers placed at the side of her four-poster bed and walked to the door of her room. Grabbing her crimson robe hanging on the side of the wooden entrance, she slipped it on her bare shoulders and pulled her door open.

~~* 

The illuminate lamplight which dimly lit the small desk at the end of one of the single beds burned a dim orange that threatened to but out in but a few minutes. In the darkness, quill scrawls were heard. They seemed hurried and quick; the strokes of the feather tip seemed to be chasing the fading lamplight before it burned out. __

Finally, the letter was done. And Harry, who struggled to write the hasty sentences in the dark, potted the lightly colored envelope, which concealed the letter with a seal of a small snitch forming upon the red wax.  

It was a letter to Lupin, a short note of events that had been happening during the past two months. After all he had asked Harry to write as often as possible last summer. He was sending it now that he was in Hogwarts because he had failed to send the last one as Uncle Vernon had decided to install a surveillance camera in his room monitoring all Harry's tasks. Harry had found a method to stop the camera's clock movement so he would be given a chance to do his homework once in a while but the time was unfortunately limited. And if Harry would unwisely choose to cast the spell again, it would be detected by the ministry and he would receive another inquiry as he did in his second year and just last year, when he was on the verge of being expelled by Fudge and that complete toad Umbridge. But before Harry had got down to writing letters to Lupin and his friends, Uncle Vernon had discovered that the camera's clock had been stopping occasionally and as usual, he blamed Harry for it. 

In his letter, he had also mentioned that he would love to meet with him soon. And also with Tonks, Mad-eye and the rest. And Harry was sure, that if the circumstances were not that grave, his little request would not be impossible.

Harry stood up and laid the letter on the desk as he went over to her trunk and collected his invisibility cloak. He could not wait 'til the next day to send the letter; he had thought that it had been delayed enough already and so he decided to take it to the owlery at that very moment. He had silently slipped out of the boy's dormitory and rushed in to the hall with the letter, there he had slipped the invisibility cloak upon his shoulders.   

He walked though the hall, passing by the door, which led to the stairwell leading to the prefect's dormitory. He had thought of Dumbledore's offer to sustain him as prefect and had hesitantly decided to accept the offer. That way he would not be having trouble sneaking out at night worrying that he would wake one or more of his dorm mates. But Dumbledore had been rather busy that first week and Harry had not gotten a chance to tell him of his decision. 

Harry stopped at the door for a second as he noticed a shadow travelling down the spiralling stairwell leading down to the Gryffindor common room. Harry decided to stop for a moment and let the person pass on ahead as not to sense his presence before he walked down the stairs himself.

~~*

Ginny held the hard stone banister of the stairwell as she made her way down to the common room. At first she had been hesitant to descend the stairs in worry that someone might be out like her and catch her. In the middle part of the stairwell, she had realized that she had forgotten her wand. She cursed herself inwardly for being so absentminded but then, decided that she would just take an oil lamp from the common room when she decided to return to the prefect's tower.

Though the blackness was all she could see, she was not that alarmed. She had known those steps by heart as she had climbed it five years now. There were nine more steps to the turn then the longest flight down to the common room twenty steps more. 

Wind whistled around the cylindrical walls and a sudden icy gust swept upward as though someone had opened the door to the third year girl's dormitory situated to the right of the landing. As she reached the turn, Ginny passed the open door leading to the third year dormitories. Beside it, was the life-size statue of a winged devil towered on a pedestal, looming grotesquely monstrous in the dimness.

Ginny turned to the opened door to her right and turned back to the long flight of stairs in front of her. Suddenly, she heard the loud closing of the door behind her. In surprise, she jerked forward and tripped on the first step from the turn. With a cry, she plunged headlong down the twenty steps. She heard a sickening crash as her head struck the hard stone floor of the base of the stairs before her vision blurred and saw nothing but darkness.

~~*

Harry jerked his head as he heard a loud slam of a heavy wooden door and following it shortly, a fearful cry. He took out his wand and muttered 'Lumos' before darting down the steps of the Gryffindor tower.

A sprawled gowned body of a girl lay at the landing as he could see with the dimness of the wand light. He hurried down the steps and kneeled down before her body. 

Harry gasped in horror as he saw that it was Ginny. Harry made an attempt to wake her up as he shook her gently and called her name softly.

Ginny stirred slightly as she struggled to move her arm aside from where Harry held her back upright. Her eyes flickered half open as she caught Harry in her sight. She stifled a few whispers as she tried to speak but her words were illegible. Her eyes slowly closed themselves again as she lost consciousness.

"Ginny, Ginny" Harry persisted again as she lay unconscious in his arms.

He figured that she might have fallen down the stairs in the dark. He had to get some help. He thought of bringing her to her hospital wing, but he could not carry her that far without running in to someone, and though that was an emergency; he would still have to explain what he had been doing up at midnight. He figured he would have to explain things for Ginny as well but, he, unfortunately did not know her side of the story. Harry decided to get Ron, but first he had to bring her up to her room.

~~*

The walls of the usually dark prefect's room were filled with many oil Lamps lit around Hermione's room. Knowing very well that it would be a Saturday the next morning, she decided to do something she wouldn't normally do.  

Hermione sat awake in her room; she was writing a small passage she remembered reading from her book, The Land of Nall. She whispered the words as she wrote them.

_'You were always my fallen angel… you were destined to be lost to me, but, once in my lifetime, you found me… and together, we found this unfathomable invention called love…"_

Hermione placed her quill back the inkbottle as she blew softly on the words written on the carefully creased piece of parchment. She remembered those words from a letter of the young sorceress of aristocratic blood to her dead lover, the general of the army of her homeland's enemy. 

The tragic love story reminded Hermione of the last words of a sonnet she had fondly read as a child. _'And, if God choose, I shall love thee better after death,"_

Suddenly, there was an urgent rapping on her door. Hermione set down the parchment as she strode over to her door coming to open it. She wondered who could possibly be knocking on her door at such a late hour.

She was almost startled as she saw Harry's worried face looking at her from outside her doorway.

"Harry! What are you doing here? It is the dead of night," she said startled.

Harry drew in a faint breath as he began to speak.

"Hermione, It's Ginny, she fell down the stairs leading to the common room…"

"What?!" Hermione gasped, "Where is she?"

"In her room, I carried her there,"

"Why didn't you bring her to her hospital wing? She could have broken her bones!" cried Hermione frantically.  She grabbed her robe hanging from the side of her doorway and rushed out of her room.  
  


"I figured I'd get Ron first… stay with her while I get him," said Harry firmly as he went down the corridor towards their dormitory. Hermione nodded and rushed to the third door from hers and pushed it open. 

Ginny was lying unconscious on her bed with her silk light yellow nightgown on her slender body. Hermione approached her and observed a slight gash running from her forehead towards her right temple. Crimson blood had been amassing from it and had flown down to a white handkerchief by her pillow side. Hermione had figured that Harry had put it there before rushing to her room.

Hermione took the white cloth and then pressed it to her temple. Ginny slightly enthused her head away from Hermione as she applied pressure on the slight incision.

The door burst open and in came Ron and Harry. 

"Ginny!" Ron exclaimed at the sight of his unconscious sister. He rushed to Ginny's bedside and held her shoulder firmly shaking it slightly. 

"He has a gash on her head Ron, we have to bring her to the hospital wing. She might have broken her skull," said Hermione worriedly.

"Let's go," said Harry from behind them. He offered to carry Ginny all the way but Ron had said that he would do it. He had added that Harry had done enough and thanked him for his troubles.

~

The trio brought the young Weasley to the hospital wing that night in worry and fret. Ron fearing the worst had been completely upset. Hermione felt for her friend, though she had not a sibling she knew the agony of worrying for someone you love.

Harry apparent to Hermione could not well hide his concern and worry over the accident. Hermione was sure that Ginny would have him to thank for anything once she had recovered.

Ginny was to stay in the hospital wing for three days. Madame Pomfrey had diagnosed her with a twisted ankle, and numerous bruises and a cracked skull that caused her reoccurring headaches. Every day was a better one for her as she confidently recovered.

Professor Mc Gonagall had asked Ginny what had happened and naturally, Ginny had relayed the incident. How she tripped on the stairwell as the door of the third year dormitories closed behind her. The Professor was not so sure about the door for everyone knew that there were no windows in the third year's hallway and theorized that someone might have closed it on purpose. 

But she dismissed the thought quickly concluding that what had happened was an accident.

The morning after the accident, Harry had sent Lupin' letter. He had a little chat with Hermione about him when the both of them were walking to the library. Harry had relayed being restless in the night before and excited to send that very letter. Hermione told him a very familiar phrase that made him shake his head in irony; Patience is a Virtue… 

Ron and Harry occasionally visited Ginny during that week, seldom accompanied by Hermione who was alternatively at her extra classes or at prefect's meetings now accompanied by Harry who had recently accepted the offer of being a sixth year prefect. Hermione had been happy that he had, for she needed the company while Ginny was unwell. She could not bear having to go to prefect's meetings and have no one to talk to but Parvati the only other prefect from her house. She was fine, but Hermione knew that all she did was gossip about every other person in the school, so why bother carrying on such mindless conversation.

~

Hermione was walking out of Ancient Runes and was heading for Potions. She unfortunately had three classes straight in the afternoon and double Potions was a great way to lift her tired spirits up, she thought sardonically. 

Walking down the stone steps leading down to the dungeons, she took a turn and entered the landing that led to the Potions classroom. Entering the stale–smelling room, Hermione could see that Harry and Ron weren't quite in yet. She worried that the duo would be late, she envisioned them entering the classroom quite hesitantly while the lesson was going on and loosing ten points a piece for not being on time.

Just as Hermione sat down on one of the tables, she decided to reserve seats for her renowned friends. As if on cue, Ron and Harry happily walked in to the room talking vociferously about Quidditch. Hermione called to them and they went over to her taking their seats.

"Where have you been?" she asked, " I thought you would be late— AGAIN!"

Ron clicked his tongue meticulously as he shook his heat slowly.  "Hermione, Hermione, Hermione, Don't you ever have any faith in us?" he said with a glint in his eye. Harry laughed. "Honestly Ron, You're becoming more like Fred and George every day,"

"Faith?! I certainly do, I have faith in you enough that I trust you to win the next Quidditch match… and as you are so seemingly confident in yourselves, I don't think I have to state that simple fact"

Harry sighed paradoxically. "Hermione, the next Quidditch match is against Hufflepuff… We really do not need any support for that," Harry looked at Ron and they laughed.

Hermione shook her head in slight annoyance; she pursed her lips tightly to keep from grinning. She did not want to make it obvious that she silently shared her friends' pity for the Hufflepuffs.

Professor Snape had just entered the room and the class had grown silent.

"I trust you are all done with your essays on the concealment potion?" he said acidly turning specifically to the Slytherins. They answered in the affirmative diligently as the Gryffindors groaned in annoyance. As if reacting violently, Professor Snape turned to the Gryffindors.

"And I hope," he started "That they are not that _faulty_. For your own sake," The Professor turned back to his desk and drew out several pieces of parchment. He began to list various ingredients followed by instructions on the vast blackboard as the students murmured discreetly in their seats. 

"What a git," said Ron hatefully. "He thinks our essays contain the faultiness and the all Slytherins' work is supposed to be perfect,"

The trio glanced to the back seats of the Slytherin sides and caught Crabbe and Goyle grunting simultaneously. 

"Then again… Maybe not," said Ron, Harry and Hermione giggled along with him. 

"Now," said Snape firmly, glaring at the trio "You will now concoct; the quiescent potion. Which is as you know— Yes Mr. Malfoy…"

Draco rose lazily. "The stronger version of the common sleeping potion" he said dryly.

"Very good! Five points to Slytherin," the Gryffindors groaned in exasperation at this. Hermione turned to look at Draco who sat contented in his seat. She was extremely annoyed at him, for she had her had up first and Snape simply ignored it. Draco glanced at her and smirked mirthlessly.

"Now, the ingredients are on the board. Instructions as follows," Snape turned his gaze to the fearful Neville who froze at his stare. "I am warning you now, to make sure that the mass of shredded beetle eyes is limited to the written number. Too much can lead the person to never wake up again," he said dryly. "And too little can cause him to never sleep," His voice was like a chilling wind rising up the Gryffindor's spines.

The stern Professor signalled them to begin.

~~*

Twenty minutes in to the time, Hermione had already finished her potion. Snape eyed her wearily as she presented her potion to him. He asked her to pour five drops on a black rat that had scurried across the back of Snape's teachers table and was kept in a cage.

Hermione almost felt sorry for the rat; it looked that it regretted ever crossing Snape's path. But then Hermione remembered Peter Pettigrew and thought 'Who cares?'

Hermione's potion proved to be effective and Snape still looked at her with unfavourable blankness. He drew his cloak aside and moved over to Draco Malfoy's potion. Hermione grunted in annoyance, she had done a perfectly good job and was not a bit praised for it. Oh how she hated Potions.

~~*

"We'll wait for you at the Quidditch Pitch Mione," called Harry as he rushed out with Ron bolting out of the room in an attempt to get as far away as possible from Snape as possible.

Hermione nodded as she sat down to gather the scattered pieces of parchment that had fallen from her books as Ron suddenly stood up at the strike of six. Hermione insisted that she stay to pick up and Ron happily obliged.

Hermione, on all fours reached under the table to get the piece of parchment that had fallen under it and then reached to the opposite side of it grabbing another. But crawling for the last one, she saw a pair of black boots stepping on it. Hermione hesitantly looked up and found herself staring in to the steely gray eyes of none other than Draco Malfoy. 

Hermione pulled out the last piece from under his foot when she pushed herself to stand up.

"Are you done worshiping me Granger?" he sneered; "I really appreciate it…" his sardonic tone was evident in his sneering voice. Hermione glared at him with hateful displeasure.

"I do nothing of the sort Malfoy, what do you want?" she said finally standing upright. It annoyed her that though she stood erect he still looked down on her. She felt that it would always be that way, he looking down on her like she was some sort of reject; unfit to be admitted in the wizarding world.

Draco smirked, he had a pretty good idea what this mudblood before him was thinking. 

Hermione had turned around and had seen that she had failed to realize that they were the only people left in that room. She turned her glare back to Malfoy who was looking at her with vacuity in his eyes. For a moment Hermione wondered how he had gone through his life with having to look at everyone emotionlessly. To her, the disturbing fact made her think of him as… inhuman. 

Draco brushed the few strands that had fallen on to his eyes before finally speaking. 

"I was wondering if you and what'shisname had worked on our research so far," he drawled. 

Hermione was thinking of various ways to peel off that annoying smirk off his face before she answered him. 

"Seamus and Padma have been having study sessions in the library for about three days now. I join them occasionally to add pieces of my research…" she told him primly before taking her books and bag off the table preparing to leave. Draco strode before her quickly before she made an attempt to abscond.

"And me?" he asked firmly. He fought the urge to storm out in front of her for leaving him out of the research. After all, he was not about to let his outstanding record fall in to the hands of Granger and those other fools.

"You? What about you?" said Hermione as firmly as she could to show him that she was not afraid of him.

"You don't expect me to sit around while you do all the work," he told her. Hermione was almost sure that he was on the verge of anger by the look of irritation in his eyes.

"I was to tell you Malfoy, that _if _you _want_ to help, I'd advise you to check your sources and write down your results. Give them to Padma or me _if_ you have the time… _or_ you can just…" said Hermione hesitantly as she stopped to take a breath. She had made sure that the words she chose were stressed as to make him aware of her impression on him

"Or I can just what?" he said. His eyes were darkening and as Hermione looked in to them she felt that her heart was beating at an alarming rate. Hermione was suddenly aware of the immediacy between them. Draco held the table behind her and prevented her from passing. He stood so close to her that their bodies almost touched.

"O-or you can just do nothing and let us to the work," she said uncertainly. Draco's lip narrowed in to a thin line as she said this. It made her regret saying it at all.

"I don't like that idea Granger…" he said angrily. Hermione was aware of the seriousness in his voice. "I have earned every mark that I ever got. I think you're under the impression that I'm a slacker, are you?" She shivered with fear. His angry tone sent chills up her spine and she didn't like it. Hermione looked up at his face studying his sharp features as she did. His pale white skin intimidated her; it was; as she could see, as flawless as she had thought it would ever be. She tried not to so what she did next but it seemed almost irresistible, she transferred her gaze upon his eyes. She looked in to the pools of liquid silver. Seeing them from that close a distance, she observed that they weren't purely gray, she saw long shards if a dazzling blue streaming outwards from the inner iris. She found his eyes, as she had before, as beautiful as they always were. Hermione was left mildly breathless by the tension that was rising in her head. It took every piece of energy left in her to keep her from falling over at that moment. The moment when his blank eyes, which looked at her with a faint emotion a moment ago, had now regained their steeliness and unemotional stature.     

"I'm not Malfoy," she said feebly. She couldn't help but hear a tad of guilt in her own voice. Hermione looked away from him as she found herself unable to speak when she looked at his eyes resting on her fearful face. 

"Fridays," she said faintly as she took a step away from him.

"Fridays at six, after class" she said a little more vigorous this time. Hermione looked back at him. Draco looked at her with the seriousness she had seen in him earlier. "Is that alright with you?" 

Draco's lip twitched unwillingly before he answered her in a forced affirmative. He studied her as she stood there, uncertain of what she would do. 

He managed to set his sight on her perfectly curved jaw line and her slightly prominent cheekbones. He observed her creamy completion; her cheeks slightly dented with rosy pink spots. His gaze travelled on to her lips, which were rosy and moderately lush. They were slightly parted and to him… they almost seemed… sexy.

At that thought Draco shook his head. How could he correlate that compliment with the likes of nerdy, know-it-all, mudblood Granger? 

Hermione perceived Draco's stare upon her and felt extremely uncomfortable. She wanted to leave the room that very moment but then she found herself frozen. It was like his gaze glued her to where she was standing. 

It was a few moments before she gathered herself and mustered the energy to rush past him leaving the classroom.

Draco looked after her and grumbled. He grabbed his bag from the table and walked out of the room heading for the Slytherin dungeons.

~~*

Pushing the lightly colored curtains of the infirmary aside to reveal the room, Ginny smiled to Hermione as the older girl entered the room.

"Ginny, how are you doing?" asked Hermione as she sat down on the periwinkle sheets that covered Ginny's bed. 

The youngest Weasley had been in the infirmary for the last two days from when the accident happened and was now acting as strong as she was two weeks before. 

Harry and Ron were thankful that Ginny would be out of the Hospital wing the very next day and so was Hermione.

Ginny shifted her head uncomfortably on her plump pillow in an effort to sit up. Hermione kept her down motioning not to even try.

"Fine really, fine enough to sit up," she said reassuring Hermione.

Hermione sighed. "If you really want to be out of here by tomorrow, be sure to abide by Madam Pomfrey's orders _not to do too much stressful things,"_  

"You take that seriously? I'm almost sure that if I do follow her orders I'm gonna be here for quite a longer time" said Ginny. Hermione gave a slight laugh at Ginny's retort and grinned at the younger girl.

"So, how's the project going?"

Hermione's smile suddenly vanished at the remembrance of what had happened earlier that afternoon. "Is that an implication that I shouldn't have asked that?" said Ginny after noticing Hermione's expression.

"Actually, it's fine. I just haven't given that much time to it," she answered promptly.  

The younger girl smiled at her and slowly turned her head away turning to the window across from her bed. It was a glorious afternoon and the sun was beginning to set. The distant sky was illuminate in pink and orange waves spreading across the horizon. Ginny sighed silently.

"I hear your leaving three weeks from now for France…" she told Hermione quietly.

Hermione caught the hint of sadness in the younger girl's voice. She was sure that Ginny would miss them dearly during the span of time that they would be away from Hogwarts. Hermione placed her hand on Ginny's and rubbed it comfortingly. Ginny looked at her and Hermione saw the lonely look in her coffee tinted eyes. They were very much like her own, but Hermione's eyes were much lighter and were a delicate shade of hazel while hers were a darker brown. 

"Don't worry, it'll only be for a month. You'll be alright in that time," she said reassuringly.

"I know but I really prefer conversing with you and Harry and my brother than any other one in my year…"

"Ginny, It's just four weeks. We'll be back before you know it… Now promise me you won't worry" 

Ginny smiled at Hermione. "Alright, I promise. It's just that I have this sinking feeling that something will go wrong… Hermione, promise me you will be careful, "

Hermione grinned weakly, she could not ignored the feeling that she may be right but chose to keep herself quiet about all of it. She nodded conformingly. 

Just then, the curtains to the side of Ginny's bed opened suddenly. Hermione turned in mild surprise as she faced a rather mousy haired boy she knew very well. She fondly remembered their second year when she grew quite annoyed of this boy who followed Harry around with his trusted camera taking numerous shots of the boy who lived.  

"Ginny, Hermione…" said Colin Creevy briskly. Hermione smiled at him acknowledging him politely. He had a stack of books in his hands and pieces of parchment slipping out of his bag. He placed the books on Ginny's side table as she sat up.

"Here's all the homework for this day, Professor Snape says the essay should be nine scrolls long and in fine print," he told Ginny. Ginny smiled weakly at him. To Hermione, it was as if she was trying to hold back telling him to spare the bad news. Ginny had told Hermione a few days ago that Colin had given the liberty of bringing all their assigned homework to her almost every night. Hermione couldn't help but think that he was not just doing it out of friendship, in fact; the thought made her happy for Ginny, even though Ginny was not yet happy for herself.

"Thank you Colin, for bringing it all up. I appreciate it…" she said. Colin took a wooden stool from the far side of the bed and positioned it to sit by her side. Hermione sat up briskly and decided to take her leave. 

"Mione, leaving already? But you just arrived," said Ginny. Hermione sent a knowing smile at her younger friend that said; it's about time you two had some time alone.

"I have work to be done in the library," she said a quick goodbye to Ginny and Colin as she left the infirmary.

~~*

Almost breathless, Hermione climbed up the winding stairwell leading to her dormitory. She had been in the library for almost three hours as she could see. The brass wall clock on the wall of her room had read fifteen minutes after eight. Hermione closed her door behind her and walked slowly to the bathroom to take her shower. It had certainly been a long day as all other schooldays before her had been. 

She had remembered that a year back she would have been happy to have lived that day over and over again, but now, she would have thought twice before even thinking that. The first weeks of the sixth year had been very stressful for even Hermione. She was grateful to think that in a few weeks they would be on their way to France, finally getting a load of work off their backs. Hermione never thought she would be thinking as carelessly as she had been but then, when she was tired and frazzled, she did not care to bother what she would think.

As she walked in to the shower, she remembered her library work, which she had just done but a few moments ago. She had been able to read up many facts about the creature they were about to research about: the legendary siren. The siren as said in one of the books she had uncovered; had the face of a woman and the body of a bird. Of course Hermione had known that before, but it was only then when she attained the chance to see the actual moving portrait of it as printed on the page of the book she had read. The name siren originated from Greek mythology; literally, it meant to bind. Hermione also found that the sirens were fond of singing, which was quite acceptable except for the fact that their voices were great attractors of attention. The sirens lived at seas and often sat on rocks like mermaids, and if sailors were in the area, the magnificent siren's voice would undoubtedly seduce them. 

Hermione, upon reading that fact had wondered if the songs of the siren would seduce Seamus or Malfoy when they had to study the creatures first hand. Hermione silently wished it would seduce Malfoy, for when the siren gets hold of his prey; she would undoubtedly devour them. Hermione smiled at the thought of Malfoy being crushed inside the mouths of the creature and pieces of him slipping down its throat. The siren would definitely do a good job of ridding the world of a nuisance like Malfoy. Unexpectedly, after thinking about that, Hermione felt that familiar pang of guilt that she had felt before. She tried to convince herself that it was nothing, for how could she ever learn care for someone like him.

Suddenly, an impulsive memory of the earlier hours of that afternoon returned to her. She remembered leaning against the desk of the potion's classroom with Malfoy standing before her looking at her with such intensity. And she remembered that hard expression on his face; controlling, manipulative, cold and in a way… but she also remembered, that for a split second he looked somewhat… vulnerable.

It was as if she had seen a long hidden part of him no one had ever uncovered. But then, she had not looked long enough to prove it. Because before she could read that emotion he had faintly had, it had disappeared, as if it had never been there.    

Maybe it had never been, because she was thinking about Malfoy; the one who had done nothing but harass and taunt her all those long years of being at Hogwarts. Maybe she had just imagined that fact. Because she knew very well that she was supposed to be one of the last people who would want him to have an agreeable side to things.

But maybe at that moment, though she forced herself to push the disturbing thought from her mind; she actually wanted to think of the fanciful illusion that Malfoy would ever find it in himself to change. 

~~*

"Now, all yer keep quiet," said Hagrid on bright morning as he stood in front of a wooden crate out on the Hogwarts grounds. The sixth year Slytherins and Gryffindors were having their care of magical creatures lesson that morning as Hagrid stood before them. The Slytherins had expressions of irritation on their faces obviously uncomfortable about spending a day under the hot sun with none other than the Gryffindors. Naturally, the Gryffindors did not like the idea either as the group made sure they stayed a good deal away from the other unpleasant lot.

The trio stood right in front of Hagrid anxiously listening as he talked about creatures they were about to study in a few seconds. The crate behind him shook uncontrollably. Hermione, Harry and Ron stood in eagerness as Hagrid began to open the crate.

"Now stan' back. Snotlings er' frisky creatures, they er'" he said. The students took a few steps back as one of the many nails that held the package together. 

Draco looked nonchalantly at the crate that big oaf Hargid was opening. He had never shown interest in this subject; in fact he downright hated it. He was sure that he was not alone in disliking that specific subject either. His distaste for the Care of Magical Creatures teacher Hagrid had never died down ever since the third year. That incident with the Hippogriff was enough for him to conclude that as long as he still walked the halls of Hogwarts, he would hate that dratted subject.

Malcolm Baddock from behind him touched him lightly on the shoulder and Draco turned to him sharply. 

"Let's hope that's not a hippogriff, for your sake Malfoy," he said with a smirk.

Draco glared at the other Slytherin boy. "If you don't want me to castrate you right here, you _will _shut up," he warned curtly.

Malcolm took a step away from Draco as he took in his friend's deadly glare.

"It's a joke, can't you tell," he said.

Draco turned back to the crate and Hagrid. "Apparently not."

The last nail came off the crate and one side of it crashed down on to the grass. The students took a look at the now lit inside of the enclosure. From the large box, five small creatures emerged. The small things had green slightly wrinkled skin framing their big hideous faces. 

They reminded Harry of Dobby who had the same large bulging green eyes. But they were much smaller than any house elves or goblins he had seen.

Hagrid had said earlier that Snotlings were actually slaves of the elves. And considering how low house elves think of themselves, these creatures must be increasingly pathetic.

The Snotlings waddled along the grounds towards the students. The Slytherin girls seeing how hideous the little devils looked, started shrieking. From what Hermione could hear, Pansy's scream was the loudest, it was almost deafening.

Ron crooked his nose as one of the little creatures approached the trio. He started running around Hermione who found it rather amusing.

"Doesn't it get dizzy?" said Ron turning to Harry.

"Obviously not," he replied looking at the sight of the creature.

Hargid walked through the crowd of fascinated and disgusted students. 

"Don' be fraid ter hold em' critters. They don' bite" he bellowed taking one on to his arm. The Snotling on his shoulder started crawling down his trench coat and then climbing back up again.

"Harry, would you mind being the pole this time? This little thing is starting to make me sick," called Hermione. 

"I don't think it switches victims that easily Herm," said Harry. Ron gave a slight laugh as Hermione glared at him.

As if in cue, the Snotling got dizzy itself, circled one last time, and fainted.

"Oh, poor little thing…" said Hermione. 

~

A few meters from where the trio was looking over the fainted Snotling, Draco Malfoy stood casually wondering why he got stuck in a class full of fools, not to mention the oafish instructor. Pansy just passed by shrieking that one of the Snotlings were pulling her skirt. Draco rolled his eyes in irony. _What overacting idiots_ he thought.  

From across the distance, he noticed the renowned trio, squatting on the grass looking upon a Snotling that had evidently passed out. He observed Weasley with his red hair so annoyingly bright probably laughing over something futile and Potter who smiled at Ron's little joke. They seemed annoyingly happy over such shallow matters. Draco pitied them for being so trivial. 

But that was until he set his eyes on the third member of their group.

Granger. Hermione stood up higher than the two who were crouching down on the grass. Her hands were rested on her knees and her back was bent as she looked at the little Snotling as well. She was laughing again.

Draco hated it when she laughed; her voice was like a bell ringing in his ear, reminding him of something that he seriously wanted to forget. He hated her laughter, her smile, and her happiness.

But he could not do anything about it. Every time he saw the trio happy she wanted to do nothing but find a way to strip that pleasure off their faces. But nothing he tried hardly ever worked, and when it did; it would not last long.

Draco grunted and shifted his gaze away from the wonder team, the sight of them were beginning to make him sick.

~

Hermione almost cried out in surprise as the Snotling opened its eyes suddenly as Hagrid rung a small bell that seemed to be the summoning call for him.

"Professor," said Lavender from behind Dean Thomas who stood aside to let her pass. "What exactly do these things eat?" he asked curiously.

"They eat pretty much anything..." he started "en' considerin' that them wer' slaves f' goblins en' orcs… Tha' isn' much to go fer…"

Lavender nodded with a smile of acknowledgement.

Harry raised his hand slightly, "Professor?"

"Yes Harry?" said Hagrid turning to the young boy.

"Is it legal to take these things in as pets?" he asked.

From his opposite side, Malfoy and his group snickered.

"Plan on taking in a Snotling Potter? Couldn't blame you, you've got two of them already," he scoffed eying Granger and Weasley "Why stop there?" he sneered. His fellow housemates snickered at the contemptuous remark. 

It took Dean and Harry to stop Ron from lunging on Malfoy right there. Hermione glared at him hatefully. Draco looked at her raising an eyebrow with a superior smirk on his face. 

"Thas enough Mr. Malfoy," said Hagrid as he turned to Draco with a warning look. 

Draco remained indifferent to the teacher's stare. Even if his father was no longer a school governor, he did not care to pay respects to Hagrid. Because to him; Hagrid would never be a professor. He wasn't fit to be that privileged. How could a Hogwarts drop out ever be considered a professor? Draco concluded that if he compared him to any school faculty, he would be a concierge, in level with Argus Filch, possibly lower.

Hagrid turned back to the students before he deemed to dismiss them.

"Now, next lesson we'll be havin' a little treat fer ye all," he said. He dismissed them without a moment passed.

~

"What do you think that's about?" asked Ron as the trio headed up the stairs of the main doors. Hermione loosened her red and golden striped muffler strapped around her neck.

"I think it's another creature, something rare and illegal," replied Harry.

"I don't think that whatever it is would be illegal, Hagrid wouldn't go that far for his lesson," said Hermione.

"Oh yeah? Remember Norbert? If that's not illegal, I don't know what is…"

Hermione sighed. "He wasn't a professor then, remember…"

"It makes no difference," retorted Ron defiantly. Hermione looked at him and rolled her eyes. She looked at Harry and he smiled at her incongruously.

"Honestly, boys can be so stubborn," she sighed once more. 

"Hermione, what time is it?" asked Harry as the trio was headed up the moving staircase leading up to the Gryffindor tower. Hermione took out a small pocket watch indicating it was five minutes to twelve noon. She told that to Harry.

"There's a prefect's meeting after lunch, Cho told me to tell you," said Harry. Hermione and Ron looked at him at the mention of the head girl's name. Ron and Hermione have been aware that ever since the third year, Harry had had a crush on the older girl. And as Hermione had observed at that moment, as she saw Harry's cheeks slightly blushing, that his emotions haven't changed one bit.

"Cho? When did she tell you that?" asked Ron, who had taken the words right out of Hermione's mouth. His tone was teasing. Hermione had looked at Harry in anticipation of his answer.

"Yesterday afternoon, I met her, on the Quidditch pitch…" he said.

Ron rubbed his chin in a satisfied manner. "What would she be doing there?" he asked. Cho Chang had given up her position as a seeker for the Ravenclaw Quidditch team when she was elected Head Girl. She claimed it was too stressful to be holding both responsibilities at once. Her reasons were considered, and the head of Ravenclaw house; Professor Flitwick, had given permission for her leave of the team.

Harry sighed as he realized what Ron was getting at.

"Probably, waiting for you…" said Ron slyly as he grinned at Harry. Hermione chuckled gaily as Ron teased their best friend. 

"I don't know, it was just a coincidence," said Harry uncertainly as the trio entered the common room. 

"I'll go get my note pad in my dorm, I'll be back soon. Wait for me, we'll go down to lunch together," said Hermione as she raced up the dorm.

Ron looked at Harry. "What does she need a notepad for every different subject? Including the prefect's meetings?" he said.

Harry shrugged his shoulders and continued to enjoy the fact that Ron had changed the topic.

~~*

"Can you believe that oaf?" said Blaise as she walked to the Slytherin table at the Great Hall right after Care of Magical Creatures along with Draco, Malcolm and Pansy. "Showing us something as useless as a Snotling…"

"And look what it did to my hair!" whined Pansy as she tried to tame her mass of blonde locks which was as messy as a haystack after that Snotling feasted on it. Malcolm smirked.

"Actually Pansy, it gives you a new look… It makes you look rather pretty," said Malcolm contemptuously. Draco smirked at him. Blaise smiled in silent mockery.

Pansy stopped fixing it for a bit and batted her eyes at Draco sickeningly. "It does, doesn't it? Don't you think so Draco?"  She said, stupidly fooled by Malcolm's sarcastic remark. Draco sneered.

"Stupid Bitch, he was being sarcastic. Do you honestly think that will be passable as a hair-_style?_" scorned Draco. Malcolm looked at her and laughed. Draco's smirk grew wider.

Blaise rolled her eyes as Pansy whined in annoyance. She was really an idiot to have ever believed such an obviously sarcastic remark like that. Blaise was thankful that she wasn't born like Pansy… a thick–headed slut.

"Oh, by the way Draco, prefect's meeting at one after lunch…" said Blaise turning to her boyfriend. Draco nodded in agreement. Leisurely, he slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him as they continued to walk. Pansy gave a slight gasp at the sight before her but as Blaise turned to her with a mocking smile, she decided to keep her thoughts to herself. She knew then that Draco and Blaise was already an item, and that they were together as lovers now. She understood perfectly, there was no place for her in Draco's heart. There would never be, she was almost sure of that.

~~*

Draco walked swiftly up the winding staircase that leaded towards the Prefect's Common Room. He was due there for about two minutes ago but was sure that they haven't started yet. Malfoy pushed open the hidden sliding stonewall which was the nearest entrance to the meeting room.

Entering the room he caught the sight in mild bliss. The meeting hadn't started just yet. Blaise who was sited at the end of the long rectangular table was motioning to him to sit beside her. Draco strode over to her.

"What took you?" she asked in a mildly indifferent voice. 

"I went to talk to Professor Snape.." he muttered. He looked at her firmly as if telling her not to question him further. Blaise turned to her notes of the piece of Parchment before her and began to scribble some sentences on it with her quill.

Draco looked around the room he almost automatically spotted Harry Potter and his emissaries, Mudblood and young Weasel, Virginia Weasley. They were laughing again over what, he did not know. He turned his attentions to the girl on Harry's side, who was leaning over his shoulder and looking at a piece of parchment they were grinning at. 

Draco noticed her chocolate colored hair falling over her shoulders cascading over her back. The mild rays of sun peaking through the row of windows behind them made Hermione's hair seem a lighter shade of what it really was. Strangely, Draco noticed that the mild glow around her brought out the color in her eyes. It made her look… salient.

As if on cue, Hermione looked up at him with a mild expression. He was surprised to see her look at him suddenly. Her eyes flickered slightly as if not willing to believe that his gaze was on her.

Hermione glanced at him coolly. She did not know what to do as she found herself looking deeply in to his eyes. He was struggling to remove the surprised expression on his pale face as he forced himself to look away from her. But he couldn't.

Draco found himself unable to tear his gaze away from her eyes. It was at that moment when Hermione had found that expression she had seen him in when they were in the train, she had confirmed that it was not her imagination. Yet as that moment before, he had looked away from her face turning to Blaise beside him, who continually wrote with her quill on the pieces of paper. She did not notice him, fortunately for him. Nor did she see the cross expression on himself.

What are you doing? He asked himself angrily. He had just taken notice of a mudblood, and had thought her salient. Such a word she didn't deserve. He tried to repeat that over and over again in his head. And to think he had looked at her in a way where his face was so softly contorted. Even he could not have known that he was capable of such poignant expressions. He relaxed a little and then turned to glare at her. Before that he had been aware of her eyes on him.

She looked surprised to see him with the angered expression; it was the complete opposite of what she had seen a while ago. She looked away from him and turned to Harry's hilarious caricature of Snape. 

Just then Cho Chang and Marcius Flint, the head boy and a younger brother of Marcus Flint who had graduated a few years ahead of him, stood in front of the assembly of prefects in the room. Marcius had presided over the table. He had begun to talk of matters concerning the portrait of the drunken maidens situated in the western wing of the castle. In a corridor which was the frequent passageway of students leading to the great hall.

"Students have reported to have been insulted, harassed, verbally abused and offended by the said painting. Any suggestions to this problem?" asked the head boy.

Draco lazily raised his hand. "Isn't that the hallway which leads to the Hufflepuff tower?" he drawled. The Hufflepuffs looked at him as if in awe that someone like him knew the way to their common room.

"I think so." Replied the head boy turning to Cho who nodded in conformity.

"Why don't we just leave it be, mind you it will teach the Hufflepuffs to be a lot less craven… and it would flatter the Snufflepuff boys (if there is such) I wager that all of them live thought their life dateless…" he said. The Slytherin Prefects started snickering as all the other Prefects glared at them. 

Cho caught Marcius grinning right along with them and nudged him in the ribs. Marcius glared at her. For a girl she certainly had the muscle of a lightweight wrestler.

"Alright that's enough. Mr. Malfoy I hope you would come up with more logical suggestions…" said Cho.

"Apparently for Malfoy, That's as logical as you can get," said a voice from her right. It was Harry. Cho smiled at him.

"That goes to show how dim-witted you are Potter, let's see you at a solution…" Draco sneered as he glared at Harry murderously.

Harry was about to retort when Cho called Hermione to speak as she unnoticeably was raising her hand while Harry and Draco was uselessly bickering.

"I say we make a petition, to change the portrait. If possible have it thrown… or simply relocate it in another part of the castle where it would be less… in the way of students," said Hermione.

"An excellent suggestion Hermione. We shall start work on it today, and if we have the larger favour of the student body, we shall pass it on to Dumbledore for approval…" concluded Cho. 

The head girl sat down and had once again begun to shuffle through her stack of papers to look for more matters to discuss.

~~*

"I'll see you in the common room then," called Harry from the far side of the meeting room as Hermione nodded to him. Harry turned to leave with Ginny.

She was shuffling though her tote bag, looking for the list of complaints listed by the first years she had talked to the morning before. She wanted to submit them to Cho but seeing as they had been left in her dormitory, she decided to hurry on after Harry and Ginny who were headed to the Gryffindor common room. She had only been a few steps to the door when she heard she clapping of boot heels on the stone floor of the common room.

"Granger," said an impassive voice behind her. Hermione closed her eyes; she dreaded to look behind because she knew exactly whom it was.

She turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. "What do you want Malfoy?" she asked calmly. She had taken the time to notice that the few people who were left in the room began to leave. So apparently, they were alone… again. Like they had been a hundred hours before.

"I'd just like you to know," he started off coolly eying her with evident scorn and derision. "That I won't be available for our little study session later…"

Hermione sighed with an impeccable perceptiveness. As if she knew he was going to try to get out of it somehow.

"And what's you're excuse Malfoy?" she asked him sharply failing to act impassive.

"If you have to know, I'm having tea with Voldemort and Wormtail in my common room later, care to join me?" he said sarcastically. Hermione gasped at his sudden retort. Although she knew he was mocking her, she could not remove the wavering feeling in her throat that he could have been serious at that moment. "Oh, Did I scare little Grangie Waingie?" Draco said in a contemptuous tone.

"Does a little bit of dark talk scare you so? I thought too highly of you Granger, and I thought Gryffindors weren't scaredy cats…"

Hermione glared at him scornfully. 

"Funny, I thought you weren't as illogical as you seemed…" she muttered. Hermione turned to leave the room when he caught her arm and forced her to face him. His fingers dug in to her flesh that she whimpered in pain. He looked at her closely, he could see that her look was firm and she had no indications of being fearful of him. He felt a slight feeling of esteem for her, which he chose to ignore. Normally any girl would have screamed while she was held in a violent way, but she didn't.

"If you have to know Granger, I have Quidditch practice tonight. And I insist on not missing it," he told her resolutely "because I intend to beat the crap out of your _precious Potter_ and Weasley" he spat at her. 

Hermione remained indifferent to his impertinent insult. She tried to ignore the spasms of pain that she felt throughout her arm as he held it tighter. She was sure that there would be bruises later.

"And if you ever do Malfoy, it wouldn't matter," said Hermione. Draco looked at her and had a momentous expression of perplexity. But then it disappeared; he never wanted to look confused because just like her, Draco was a critical thinker.   

"What are you saying Granger?"

"If you ever beat Harry, it won't matter to him, because it would just be another match. The one circumstance in which you see his weakness, and the one chance you see to beat him. Even if it would ever happen, he wouldn't make a big deal out of it," she stated. "Harry is different from _you_ Malfoy, because he's not as vain as you are. In everything he does, he doesn't think like you who wants to win just because he wants to prove that he's the best. Harry thinks that if he can play one game the best he can and to his limits, he knows that he has done enough. And he is contented"

Hermione looked at her arm where Malfoy gripped her. His grip loosened, he looked at her. Hermione noticed that their faces were inches away. She caught the site of his tightly pursed lips and she knew that she had definitely struck a nerve. He dropped her arm and took a step away from her.

"I'm tired…" he said coolly. Hermione looked up at his face refusing to meet his eyes. "I'm tired of hearing everyone praise Potter like he is some savior of the entire wizarding race," 

Hermione said nothing.

"It is so sickening to hear so many good compliments for someone so pathetic…" he sneered at her. 

"Harry's not pathetic Malfoy! If there is anyone here who is, it's you," she retorted hotly.

"Oh really now Granger, am I really? I told you I was sick of hearing praises for Potter, because I don't see what is so bloody great about him," 

"Do you know what your problem is Malfoy?" said Hermione slowly.

"And what would that be?" he asked her. His glare remained as hard as it always was.

"It's that you cant accept the fact that there's someone better than you, who can prove himself to me much more of a useful being than you can ever be… You can't get that through your head and it kills you," she said coolly finally turning her back on him and bolting out the door.

Draco looked at her as she left, suppressing an intensifying sentiment within him that told him that all she had said moments ago were unambiguously true.

~~*

Hermione rushed out of ancient runes class as she decided to take a little trip to the bathroom. She walked up the winding stairs leading to the third floor. It was the closest prefect's lavatory to the Ancient Runes classroom. 

A marble chimera guarded the entrance to the bathroom. He looked pissed, as he always was and moved aside as she muttered the password.

The stone partition opened up to reveal the marvellous bathroom. In the middle was a large empty pool behind the stone partition behind the cubicles. And to it's right was the column of sinks.

Striding over to the circling column of sinks, she lay down her tote bag at the side of one sink. Hermione looked at herself in the mirror taking a deep breath. It disturbed her not being able to concentrate in her last classes since the incident in the prefect's meeting room earlier that day. The throbbing sensations in her arm had barely subsided, and all throughout the time she had been disturbed by it; she had ignored it.

Rolling up her white sleeves after removing her school robe, she was almost shocked by what she saw. A ring of bruises ran around a part of her upper arm like a horrid birthmark. She massaged her arm to ease the lingering pain. _'Malfoy must be very proud of his handiwork'_ she thought. She never thought he would go that low and hurt her like this. In someway she wanted to get him back.

Grabbing her wand from her tote bag, Hermione muttered a concealing spell to hide the dark patches underneath her skin. It hid them perfectly, though the pain was still there.

It eased the tension, for at least; she wouldn't have to explain anything to explain to anyone who ever saw the bruises. 

Rolling her sleeve down, she buttoned her cuff and slipped on her robes. With one last look at the mirror, she lifted her bag off the floor and left the Prefect's bathroom.  

~~*

Draco returned to his room sullenly after Quidditch Practice. He put his broom aside and stored it in a closet beside the door of his bathroom. Taking off his Quidditch robes, he went inside the bathroom and took a quick shower.

Malfoy stepped out of the shower in a green towel after taking his quick shower, his well-toned chest exposed. It was a sight that any girl in Hogwarts would have died to see, because no body could ever deny that he was one of the hottest men in Hogwarts. And as vain as he was, he had to conclude that he was the one atop that list.

Remembering the incidents that night, his thoughts remembered the practice.

The Slytherin's practice session that day was wonderfully promising. Draco remembered that he had flied like he had in the Quidditch pitch at the manor some weeks before. Though he had never tried to fly recklessly on purpose, he found out that night at the manor that that specific manner of flying was rather useful especially if you were a seeker. His team-mates wondered perplexingly what had gotten in to him but even he could not answer their simple question. Blaise who was one of the Slytherin chasers was exceedingly awed and a bit surprised by what her new dexterity her boyfriend had shown during their practice session. Draco smiled at the thought of her giving him a much-needed reward right after the practice. He found it rather pleasant to gain praise from his team-mates that night.

His thoughts shifted to the earlier happenings that day. That one specific incident made him scowl at the memory.  The brightly lit wooden walls of the prefect's common room flashed repeatedly in his mind like a surreal dream that he woke up to repeatedly. He remembered his absurd thoughts ringing in his ear, his impossibly unreal thoughts about Ms. Perfect, Hermione Granger. Draco ran his fingers through his platinum blonde hair as he stood up in front of his wooden mahogany trunk forcing it open. He slipped on an emerald shaded robe and slipped it on his bare shoulders. 

Draco cursed himself inwardly at the thought of that moment. He remembered how eminent she looked as the light shown on her delicately colored hair, and her bright eyes as she looked at him. Draco swore as he realized he was doing it once again. He was giving a mudblood compliments for such things that she not deserve. He hated her at that moment; he hated her for making him think things he was not supposed to think. It was ironic how she could make him feel miserable with out even meaning it. It was infuriating, and his frustration was doubled by the fact that he could not do anything about it. 

His thoughts shifted to the later happenings in that room. The way he called her name, and those things she told him, when her hazel eyes blazed with fury as he spoke of Potter so negatively. And he thought of how she defended him so strongly, how she spoke as if he was nothing compared to the great Harry Potter.

He hated her for those things as well, because who was she to say such things when she herself had nothing to even stand for herself. She was a mudblood, her insults were not supposed to affect him. Because ever since he had decided to make Potter's and all the lives of those that surrounded and supported him a living nightmare, he had handed it to himself to speak of what he could see as their weaknesses, knowing that he was someone who had none, and knowing that he was superior to them. 

But now, as he encountered Granger who spoke with her dignity and uttered what she could observe and see and admitted to her weaknesses, he found that she had probed him of _his_ weaknesses and used them against him. How could he now comprehend what was the factual truth when she questioned everything he was raised to believe in? How could he comprehend Hermione Granger when she made him feel a trace of something he never thought himself capable of; when he made him feel so guilty.

_No!_ Draco thought strongly. What ever Granger told him earlier that day was not true, she was just jealous. She was jealous of the fact that she could never hike herself up to his level; no matter how hard she tried. But then again, was she really?

Draco could not help but think that no matter how he tried to convince himself of it, Hermione could not care less about his influence, his power and wealth. But it did not matter; for he knew he told himself repetitively, that he could never care for someone like her. Ever. 

~~*

Lavender had roused Hermione from her sleep that misty Saturday morning to beckon her out to the Quidditch pitch. She told her that Harry and Ron were out on the Qudditch pitch practicing once again along with her best friend Parvati who was one of the chasers. Hermione protested saying that she had better things to do… like read. But her petty excuse did not go unnoticed to Lavender, who reasoned with her until Hermione was fed up to even argue.

They were now sitting outside on the Gryffindor stand watching the team flying around in the thunderhead formation with Harry leading the lot before manoeuvring out of formation and diving towards their places.

Ron smiled at Lavender from the air before moving towards the goal hoops. Lavender squealed in excitement. Hermione rolled her eyes at this and turned back to the book she was reading.

"If I'd known you were bent on watching Ron show off this morning I would have intended to stay at the library for the entire day," muttered Hermione as the other girl scowled at her.

"Come on Hermione, have a little enthusiasm. Your friends are playing out there…" she told her. Lavender pulled Hermione's book from her grasp and closed it on her lap.

"Hey!" 

Lavender looked at her firmly. "I'd like to ask you something," Hermione raised an eyebrow at her. 

"And that would be?" she asked.

Lavender looked up at the team practicing as Harry dove in for another attempt at a perfect Wronski Feint. Hermione followed her gaze; she couldn't help but admire Harry for the attempt. She had admired Harry's flying style for a long time, admiring his careless strokes as he guided his broom in the air as if it was his natural element. 

"Amazing isn't he?" asked Lavender suddenly. Hermione realized that the other girl's eyes were on her. 

"Huh?" she said uncertainly.

"Harry, isn't he just the perfect flier?" asked Lavender in an effort to hide her teasing tone. She had always suspected Harry to have liked Hermione ever since their fourth year, but she wasn't sure of her sentiments for him. Lavender decided to hold her tongue; maybe she shouldn't push it just yet.

To a girl like her, Harry was a pretty easy guy to read. But ironically, others realized his emotions before he, himself did. 

"Of course, he's practically the best flier in Hogwarts. Don't you think so?" replied Hermione.

Lavender smiled. She nodded but not after noticing the faint blush that crept up the other girl's cheek.

"What is that you wanted to ask me?" said Hermione as she looked back at the pitch.

"Nothing," said Lavender.

~~*

Walking down the stone steps from the great hall, Draco caught a glimpse of his eagle owl perched on a window to his left. Malcolm, beside him turned to ask him whom it was from. 

Draco pulled the letter from his owl's foot and mumbled "My father" upon seeing the Malfoy seal.

He turned out the window to give his owl a curt acknowledgement but had seen that he had left, for there was nothing on the ledge. Through the window, Draco could see the Gryffindor Quidditch team practicing out on the Quidditch pitch and he turned away in annoyance. 

"What does he want?" asked Malcolm coolly as they continued to walk down the stairway. Draco pocketed the letter quickly. "I'm sure you know."

"Probably something to do with the Dark Lord, I don't know…" he answered nonchalantly. Malcolm looked at his friend in perplexity. _Funny_, he thought, _it's like he doesn't care._

He cleared his throat before speaking. "So it's true huh?"

Malfoy turned to him blankly. "What?"

"What Blaise said, about you," he stated. "It seems to her that you are not the least bit interested in the future your father has planned for you,"

Draco shrugged "How can I be? When he sets it two years earlier. I'm not ready…"

"Why is that?" 

"Because I'm just not." He answered firmly. Malcolm sighed. The wall to the common room was before them; Draco muttered the password. _'Prejudice'_

"It's an honor you know…"

Draco smirked slightly. "Easy for you to say…" he sneered. "You'll be in front of that damned dark council two years from now and I'll practically be a veteran by then. Looking down on my peers," The two took a distanced seat from each other on the leather couches in the bluish-lit chamber. 

"Listen Malfoy, Blaise is worried about you. She seems to conclude that you will never listen to reason, why not try pleasing her for once," said Malcolm. Draco looked at him coldly. His gaze was met with equal firmness. He could say by the look on his friend's face that he meant it.

"I want to please her," he said finally. "But, I'll miss pleasing myself,"

"Then forget yourself, It won't just be her Malfoy. You'll gain the respect of many it you do this, including your father's" 

Draco breathed as he reclined upon the couch. His father's respect; it was the one thing that he had tried to gain for so long but had failed miserably. As he grew older, he began to realize that the task was next to impossible. Now the opportunity was dancing right in front of his eyes, but why was he reluctant to grab it? 

Maybe it was just too late. And maybe he was afraid; he had failed in so many attempts maybe he was just afraid to try this final one. Because her thought that it would be better for him not to try than to fail once more.

Draco felt the rough envelope in his pocket inkling to be opened. He stood up abruptly.

"I'll be in my dorm," she mumbled softly as he turned his back to Malcolm and headed to his dormitory.

~~*

Draco grasped the letter opener in the shape of a small dagger and tore open the envelope.

He took the folded pieces of parchments out of their incarceration and started to read the words scripted in a familiar sharp hand.

Draco,

                It has disturbed me to grasp the knowledge that you have refused in corresponding with me

In the last few weeks that you have been at school. Therefore I shall be forced to take drastic measures if you still decline to collaborate amid me. 

                I have received word that you along with the sixth year population of Hogwarts are to embark on a trip to Orne, France as a part of your partial fulfilment of requirements for your sixth year. At first I thought it a disturbing idea, as it would definitely ruin my plans for the next month concerning matters that I know you are very familiar with. But then I have concluded that this trip you are to have will not be a hindrance to all that is to happen within the next months.  I ask of you to be alert at all times during your stay at Orne for you will play a part in all this my son, mark my words.

                I also ask of you to abandon the proposed search for the book; The Path of Daggers which was to be a portkey to the manor when all of this began. I shall have a new portkey planted at the Brentenoux Castle where you will be residing for your entire stay in France.

                I shall keep in touch. 

Lucius Malfoy

It was very like Lucius to turn every occasion into an opportunity for his plans, thought Draco. His father was awfully sinister, in many ways he would pass off as the perfect heir to the Dark Lord's throne. Maybe he could just go ahead and be that, thought Draco, and then he would have the perfect excuse to make Draco's life the perfect living nightmare, which it was already threatening to be. Grumbling, Draco threw the letter on the floor and walked out of his room.

~~*

Severus Snape walked through the dark dungeons of the Slytherin's dormitories headed to that one specific room. The heels of his black leather boots clapped loudly on the stone floor of the landing and stopped as her stood in front of the door. 

The room was peculiarly open, _it seems as if_ _Draco had just walked out carelessly, _thought Snape as he entered the grim dimness of the young boy's dormitory. Blue flames were ablaze upon the hung torches of the room. The fireplace was burning just as brightly and the flames lit up the floor of the room. 

Snape observed the neatly fixed covers of Draco's bed and had concluded that the boy had not been in here for a rest in a while. The Professor walked over to the fireplace and was about to leave through it but had heard a soft crumpling sound of parchment. He saw that he had stepped on scattered pieces of paper, he picked them up and started to turn them over, reading the sentences scribbled upon them.

It was the letter.

Snape rushed out of Draco's dormitory and headed towards the headmaster's office.

~~*

_"Every man has his own destiny: the only imperative is to follow it, to accept it, no matter where it leads him." _

_             -Henry Miller, The Wisdom of the Heart _


	4. Midnight Memory

_~~*_

_Don't hate me,  
Don't hurt me,  
But don't love me, either.  
For all love dies,  
And it hurts as much as the mourners' cries.  
The best thing is to just stay away,  
And let me die day by day.  
I'll go to heaven; I'll go to hell,  
But for you, it's hard to tell.  
I hope to see you burn and fry  
After you quickly and sickly die.  
Don't hate me,  
Don't hurt me,  
But don't love me, either.  
For eventually all love dies  
And you know it,  
Because I see it in your eyes._  
~~*

_Chapter Four: Midnight Memory_

Pushing the half-moon shaped glasses up his crooked nose, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore sat quietly in his comfy chair of the headmaster's office.  He took up a letter from the stack of papers on his desk and looked it over carefully. It was a letter from Remus Lupin. 

Before him, Professor Minerva Mc Gonagall sat in her chair with her hands clasped together on her lap with her head high as usual. She looked at the headmaster anxiously as he laid the letter down on the desk.

"Well, what does it say?" asked McGonagall. Dumbledore looked at her seriously.

Dumbledore took a breath before speaking.

"He's returned. He's returned here in Scotland, Minerva," he told her in a low voice. Professor McGonagall gasped, her hand on her mouth.

"You don't mean…" she exclaimed.

"Yes, Voldemort is here…" the headmaster replied. McGonagall clasped her fingers together once more, looking at him worriedly. "Lupin has assured me that he has left France two weeks ago. A month ago the Aurors received word of his whereabouts and traced him to the Riddle Mansion in Denmark, close to the Agard forests south of Vejle. Unfortunately it took them two days to find it. The Dark Lord had time to flee…"

"How did they know that he's here?"

"Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt has been receiving so many reports on his whereabouts but he seems to be slipping out of their reach every single time. The Scottish Highlands have been searched except for the charmed domains, which include some parts of Loch Monar, Kinross and let's not forget Aviemore."

Aviemore… Professor Mc Gonagall tried desperately to remember something about those highlands. There was something… Of Course! A large part of the vast highlands of Aviemore were the owned by one of the most infamous wizarding families in England.

"Aviemore.... Aviemore is where the Malfoy Estate is situated, Albus," she told him. The headmaster's blue eyes twinkled knowingly.

"Precisely," he said calmly.

Professor Mc Gonagall looked perplexed. "Then why doesn't the ministry demand to search the Malfoy estate? It is rather clear—"

"Clear?" Dumbledore laughed, "No, not clear. In fact, far from it. We are not sure if the Dark Lord actually is in the Malfoy Manor at all times Minerva," he said. "Though, we have reason to believe that he often visits there for a purpose…"

"Then Lucius Malfoy is hiding something… A purpose, what is that?" Mc Gonagall asked apprehensively.

"Of that, I am not also certain; we have to confirm our suspicions…" Dumbledore started to lean back on his chair tiredly. He faced the fireplace, and his eyes were hidden by the glare of the yellow orange flames reflected on his half moon shaped glasses.

Professor Mc Gonagall looked at him, trying to read what the headmaster was thinking, but the task was next to impossible.

"What about Harry Potter, his safety, surely must be seen to," she said quietly.

The headmaster sighed. 

"Minerva, Harry will never be safe, no matter what we do," he told her. She nodded, knowing that it was true. "Harry, has been the epitome of danger's victim ever since he was born, you know that. There is a lot in that boy which is incomprehensible even to me."

"He is truly his father's son Albus, brave, and righteous…" she said in a manifestly distressing tone. 

"Yes, James Potter was. I shall, always remember him," he said. Professor Mc Gonagall removed her glasses for a while and dabbed her eyes with a white handkerchief. 

Just then, Severus Snape entered the headmaster's office with a grave look on his face. Dumbledore and Mc Gonagall turned to the door.

"Severus, what brings you here?" asked the headmaster. Snape stood by the door looking at the two professors austerely.

"I think I've found something to clarify your suspicions Professor," he said in a slightly cold tone.

"I found this in Draco Malfoy's room this morning," he continued holding up the two pieces of parchment. He strode across the room and handed the letter to Dumbledore.

Mc Gonagall's look of anxiousness returned to her face as she saw a look of seriousness plague the headmaster's features. Dumbledore looked the letter over in silence reading every word and taking it in. 

"It's from Lucius Malfoy," Dumbledore told Mc Gonagall. He handed her the letter without hesitation. Snape took a seat across from her.

Professor Mc Gonagall read the letter, her eyes widening slowly as she took in the contents. She pushed the pieces of parchment back on the desk.

"What are we to do?" she asked.

"Nothing," said the headmaster. Snape looked at him severely, it was apparent that he was trying to hide the emotion. 

"Nothing!? Young Mister Malfoy is practically proven to be involved in all of this and we shall do nothing? Why, if it were up to me, he would be expelled immediately," she stormed.

"Malfoy has said nothing in particular Minerva, there was no mention of anything specific," said Snape.

"And what should we make of this if Draco Malfoy is not involved in whatever Lucius is talking about… it is clearly something grave. You and I know the Malfoy's to be on the iniquitous side. What are we to think?" said Professor Mc Gonagall.

"Perhaps he is merely trying to protect his child," said Dumbledore with a slight tone of sarcasm. Snape glanced at him.

"No, Headmaster, it is more than that," said Snape. 

"What do you mean Severus?"

"I am rather… worried about Draco."

Mc Gonagall looked at her fellow Professor. Worried? How could he feel such way?

"Why is that Severus?" she asked.

"He has been… telling me things. Things not exactly said but meant in some way, he appears to me very resistant to his father's bidding, and by Lucius' inquiries to me, Draco takes every measure to avoid the communication between him and his father." Snape's lips twitched slightly. "Disturbingly, he seems silently… besieged."  

Dumbledore nodded slightly, stroking his white beard.

"To tell the truth Severus, there is something in Mr. Malfoy which perplexes me. It seems easy to predict what path he will take in the future, but then I know that the task is not as simple as it appears. He is exceptional, in a way. Unique and clever," said Dumbledore.

"True traits of a Slytherin I might say," said Mc Gonagall as she glanced at Snape. 

"Yes, special… just like Harry."

Snape flinched almost simultaneously with Mc Gonagall. 

"How can you say that Albus? They are the best examples of opposite things, and further more, they, if they are anything to each other, mortal enemies is it!" exclaimed Professor Mc Gonagall. Professor Snape slightly nosed in approval. The headmaster laughed and smiled at them both. 

"Surely you two don't encourage house feuds Minerva?" said Dumbledore.

"I hate to say it Albus but Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy's rivalry is apparent I have seen it, ever since the first year. Surely Severus will not disagree with me," Mc Gonagall glanced at Snape and he nodded in agreement. 

"Clearly similar to some people I know," said Dumbledore as he looked at Snape.

Dumbledore smiled. "Perhaps, you two do not see it yet. But if you think about it, Harry and Draco have more things in common than you can ever imagine."

~~*

Glancing at the arches of the ceiling of the Transfiguration Classroom above the Gryffindor and Slytherin sixth years, Hermione yawned with boredom. A long purple dress robe was folded neatly on her desk which she had just finished transfiguring minutes ago. She turned her glance to Ron beside her who had just transformed the pieces of string in to slimy worms instead of a dress robe.

Harry along with Seamus and Dean were laughing over Ron's blunder as Lavender swatted one worm, which had crawled towards her with her book. She lifted it and to it, stuck a slimy liquid connecting the book to the table like dribble.

"Eeeeeew!" squealed Parvati. Lavender dropped the book in disgust. 

"Lavender," said Seamus "Haven't you ever heard of cruelty to animals?" he turned to Harry and they laughed once again as Lavender stood glaring at them.

Professor Mc Gonagall looked up from Neville's pink dress robe, which was lined with dead silk worms at the cuffs and tips as she heard Parvati's outbreak. Neville was shrivelling up as he noxiously looked at his creation.

"Just a moment Mr. Longbottom," she said primly as she strode over to Ron's table.

The group grew quiet as the professor eyed the pile of silk worms on the desk. Ron looked at Harry and gulped.

"Maybe, Mr. Weasley, if I gave you a piece of leather and told you to turn it in to a pair of boots, you'd turn it in to cow now wouldn't you?" she told him firmly. "Clean this up Ms. Brown, and NO magic," she said turning to Lavender.

Lavender's eyes widened as she started to protest "But—"

"No buts," said Professor Mc Gonagall as she turned towards the Slytherin's side to check on their work. Earlier, they had been snickering at Ron's bungle and Neville's worthlessness but had stopped as the professor turned towards them.   

"As if I wasn't getting enough criticizing in Potions," grumbled Ron. Lavender looked at him sympathetically.

"At least you're used to it," she said as she wiped up the last of the mess she had made on the table. Ron glared at her.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" he said scornfully.

Harry looked at them both and motioned them to stop bickering as they were in too much trouble already. He nudged Ron in the ribs slightly.

Looking across the brightly lit room, Hermione noticed the glaring rays of the sun on the closed glass window. The reflection on the light mirrored dancing patterns upon the surface of the wooden tables close to the colossal domed French windows. 

There were finished folded dress robes on the tables, products of the simple material transfiguration review the sixth year class had that day. The robes were of different colors and styles, patterns and ruffles. Hermione admired her classmates' work one after the other marvelous creation. She even thought Neville's work was passable if only it didn't look like it was designed for a girl.

But it was one dress robe that caught her eye; it was the simple silky black one cuffed with a bit of silver silk and embroidery of the same silver thread. She could not make out what pattern the shimmering threads made for it was folded. From what was visible, she could see the curving lines resembled the head of a dragon. The embroidery stood out more as illuminate as it was through flashes of sunlight. Among the lot, it was for Hermione the most formal of all. 

Yet, there was one thing that disturbed her. The wondrous creation, that stood out among the others, was made by the least expected to have artistic hands. 

The elegantly transfigured dress robe was sitting on the wooden table before none other than, Draco Malfoy.  

Hermione remembered what Professor Mc Gonagall had said earlier. She told them that the spell that was to be dictated when they were to attempt to turn their piece of string in to a dress robe was a rather preference spell, but in a way it was also reflective. The product of their transfiguration would be exactly what they had in mind while they actually performed the spell, but it would also reflect their sense of creativity and somewhat of their personality.

Harry made an elegantly crimson dress robe that was simply designed. Red symbolized courage, love, some of the things that Harry evidently was able to prove himself capable of. Ron's unfortunate accident really didn't amount to anything, except a pile of worms. Hermione mischievously wondered if Ron had any creativity at all… Well, maybe a little, after all, Ron was creative enough to think of decent and smart retorts while arguing with Malfoy along with his two oafish 'friends' who didn't said much anything, well, anything smart anyway.

Malfoy. Hermione remembered the dress robe. What could black mean? She thought. Evil for sure, cunning, secretive or mysterious.

Mysterious. It was a strong word, but to describe someone as annoyingly vile as Draco Malfoy, it was too much. But then, thought Hermione, in some way, it could fit him fairly well. 

Who was she kidding, for her, the word mysterious worked with romantic and passionate and sensuous… (Some things she wouldn't find in anyone for a while, until she found the right one for her) And undeniably Malfoy wasn't any of those things because those things were the words to describe her ideal man. 

Turning from the dark robe on the wooden table from across the classroom, Hermione intuitively steered her glance to Malfoy's pale white unemotional face. His face was straight, as if he were in deep thought. He looked unaware of his own _expression, which was hard and ostensibly maddened. Hermione vaguely wondered what he was thinking, probably some way to dominate the world. 'Hmm most likely.' But the longer she glanced at him she saw something in his face beneath the infuriation and severity. Her illusory doubts slipped away from her. She was there, and she could see it, clearly. She saw something she had always thought he had felt very inconspicuously. Something he inflicted on other people, but maybe he did feel it too. It was something that she recognized as… pain.

Hermione tore her gaze away from Draco as she shook her head at herself. She wondered, slightly annoyed at herself, why did she think so positively about him whenever she found it in herself to look at him. Why did she always reluctantly crave to see that _expression on his face which she had seen on the train, in the Prefect's meeting room; the _expression she had seen on him which she had unknowingly grown fond of. 

She did not understand. It was as if every familiar and unique feature he possessed pulled a muscle in her gut giving her that incomprehensible sensation that always left her baffled. Hermione hated being confused, for her it was a stature she would least likely want to be in. But yet, it was Draco Malfoy and no one other, who could easily slip her back in to that state of mind.

Hermione closed her eyes; she struggled to push those disturbing thoughts out of her mind before they led to much more disturbing thoughts. It was derisory to be dwelling on those useless thoughts, and of all people she was one of those who was to know that.

"Hermione, Hermione, Hermione!!!" shouted Ron as he tried to call his friend's attention who seemed to be lost in thought.

"What?"

"The class is over, time to go," said Harry. As he lifted his bag off the table and strode over to the door. "I have to go to Hagrid. I'll see you both at the dining hall." 

Hermione waved to him as Harry took his leave. Ron looked at her, then to the door. 

"I'm having lunch with Lavender today," he told her with a wide grin. Hermione returned the _expression. Finally, Ron was getting a chance at her.

"I'm guessing what you're going to do," said Hermione raising an eyebrow with a smile. Ron grabbed his bag and stood up.

"I'm going to ask her to be mine," he told her, unable to hide the excitement in his cheerful voice. 

"Well, you mustn't be late Lover boy, go on, I'll just catch up with you," said Hermione as Ron waved and bolted out of the room into the hallway where his girlfriend–to-be was waiting.

After all, they needed some time alone.

Pushing a few scrolls of parchment in to her bag, Hermione took her books off the desk and stood to leave. She was about to step towards the door when a bonded bunch of parchment slapped down on the table in front of her.

She looked up at who had placed it in front of her and looked into the callously blank eyes of Malfoy. 

"My 'results'," he said curtly. She looked at his sharp expression, obviously wanting her to reply to him. She realized that there was something in his eyes that was so manipulative. It was as if they had voices of their own.

But as much as she did not want to follow their bidding, she found the temptation utterly irresistible, though a fragment to her rebellious will remained in her. Her voice was caught in her throat and she found herself in the middle of the enticement to give in and the resistance that lingered. 

Struggling to find her voice, Hermione said a quick 'Thank You' and he rolled his eyes and walked out of the room. She looked after him in embarrassment. 

Hermione was kicking herself inwardly. 'Thank You'?  What the hell was that? She couldn't even think of a smart retort to answer him with. She cursed herself for leaving him the pleasure of thinking her pathetic and speechless before him. She knew it gave him a sense of power, a sense that she stupidly obliged to, his overgrown ego that she had encouraged to grow. 

Hermione grabbed the bonded parchment and walked on out of the room. 

~~*

Sitting on the desk in her room, she twisted her brown hair around her fingers as she finished her essay for ancient runes. She bit her lip as she thought, probing her mind of the perfect words to end the dissertation. 

With a swift sound of her quill she scribbled last sentences on the scroll and finished her report.

Hermione took a deep breath as she finished, and she put the ink and quill away. She decided to get some extra reading done so she strode over to the edge of the room and grabbed her tote bag.

She opened the bag and pulled from it, her large transfiguration book. God knows how she had the right mind to carry something as heavy as that around the school. The book hooked a few pieces of parchment that fell to the floor from her bag as she pulled out the book.

Hermione placed the book on her bed beside her and crouched on the floor to pick up the fallen pieces of on the floor. She sorted the blank pieces of parchment to one side and some scrap essays. 

Shuffling through the rest of the scattered pieces, she felt something hard that felt like the spine of a book. 

She pulled it up and found it was Malfoy's report, which he had given to her earlier.

Ignoring the scattered parchment on the floor, Hermione sat on her bed with the small book-like compilation on her lap. 

Hermione opened the first blank page and came upon a surprisingly neat script on the page. It read, The Song of the Sirens. 

She shuffled through the pages and scanned the many pages reading the essays and facts that Malfoy had compiled so precisely. Surprisingly, she read some facts that she had never read before. She wondered how she could not have come upon those books where he derived his reports from when she had been constantly been in the library looking for information on the siren, finally finding that she had probably drained all the books of essays about the mythical creatures.

Turning to the last page, she read the last paragraph aloud. 

     "The name Siren derives from a Greek root meaning 'to bind or attach' and clearly alludes to the role the Sirens played in mythology. One is inclined, however, to consider them as divinities who symbolized the souls of the dead. They would thus be funerary genii, avid for blood and hostile to the living. With their bird's body and woman's head, they recall the human-headed Egyptian hawk who also incarnated the souls of the dead. The Sirens were invoked at the moment of death, and their images were frequently found on tombs. Legend, however, depicts the Sirens only as malevolent monsters of the sea."

Interesting, she thought. She never knew that Malfoy had such industriousness to compile such a long essay. She knew that the report would definitely help their group; she almost had the nerve to thank him for it, but thought vigorously against it.  After all, he wouldn't care for gratitude in a million years.

~~*

Shifting on her bed from several uncomfortable positions, she had given up and settled for lying flat on he back as she stared in to the darkness of her room. A candle burned at the edge of the room on a crystal paperweight she had used as a holder. It was the only faint light luminous through the dark shadows looming over the arched ceiling of her quarters. The light was vaguely seen through the dark green curtains surrounding her four-poster. 

She sat up from her bed and pushed the green covers aside, flinching as she felt the stinging coldness of the dungeon take a blow at her bare skin. She rubbed her arms in an attempt of warming them from the chilly atmosphere about her. 

She didn't know how she expected to sleep when so much was on her mind. It was amazing how she maintained to keep a straight face everyday when so much weight threatened to be laid on her very soon. 

In truth, she was no different than her other housemates, who had a savagely horrible destiny that awaited them as soon as they left Hogwarts. But if you think of it, she was different; there was something in her that doubted all that she had thought she had believed in. She never knew that she was capable of ever doubting herself, but now, all the conscientiousness in which she had taken the liberty to preserve over the years was beginning to jadedly dull in doubt.

Her parents expected much from her now; they praised her and believed in her, as she was soon to amplify their family honor and prestige. She had thought so much of this over the years but now only to admit doubt to it. The responsibility of being the lady of the next Dark Lord seemed to be all too much for her to take.

She remembered her father's letter to her two days ago, he told her so prudently of the Dark Lord's preference for her as the Lady of his successor.  He talked of it being an honor and expressing false happiness for her, but though her father chose his words so carefully, she knew that his happiness for her was only pride in disguise. She didn't need his family pride, deep inside; all she wanted was him to understand her.

Perhaps it was stupid of her, to have ever thought that her parents ever thought her purposeful until now. After all she was a woman, useless and insignificant whose only purpose is to bear child. It was then when she decided to prove them wrong. Now came her chance to finally do it, but she remembered that undermining qualm that plagued her unexpectedly.  

It was then when she began to realize that what she felt must have been no different to what Draco felt when his father told him. And to think that she had spent half her time with him convincing him in to accepting something she might similarly object to if she were in his place. 

Perchance she had acquired some of his rebellious nature when they decided to be together; maybe it was destiny for them to be stuck together for all time. And though even she loved him more than anything, she wasn't sure if she wanted to be the next Dark Mistress who shared another's dream reeking havoc on the entire wizarding race.

Pushing the green curtains of her bed, Blaise swung her legs off the bed and found her soft bed slippers, slipping her bear feet into them.   She wrapped a long mauve robe on to her shoulders and strode across the dungeon room slipping out of the room silently.  

~

Her light steps on the stone floor were almost imperceptible in the gloom. Pulling her robe tighter around her shoulders she entered the Slytherin common room.

The azure ambiances on the wall were burning low in the night. Sometimes, the sullen room seemed like a Muggle aquarium with oddly hued flames burning about the room.

Blaise squinted her eyes in the dimness to see if someone was there. She couldn't see anyone, but listening closely, she could perceive slight breaths coming from the couch by the fireplace.  

She moved quietly towards the hearth and came upon his sleeping figure. She gave a sigh as she saw who it was.

His platinum blonde locks hung around his pale face luminously shining in the dim light that the common room provided. He was dressed in a black shirt and black pants with his cloak resting on his shoulders like a makeshift blanket. Blaise sighed as she thought of his own room as useless. For he always ended up coming out there in the middle of the night. She didn't blame him, like her, there was simply too much on his mind to just sleep soundly in his bed. 

She breathed in slowly as she sat down by him at the end of the couch. She glanced at his face, observing the peaceful features as he slept there, wondering if that was the only time he was serene and had absolutely nothing to think about. But perhaps she was wrong, for dreams had the possibly of haunting and tormenting him. 

Instinctively, she reached out towards his face and pushed a lock of hair away from his handsome face revealing the beauty she had always admired. She wondered how he managed to look so seamlessly impeccable when he struggled with so much. But if it was something the Malfoy men had, it was looks. Alluring and seductively sharp features that could make any girl fall. 

She sat there for a moment thinking about the man that slept beside her, a man she admired and a man she pitied. 

She never wanted to admit it but yes, she did pity him. She pitied him for being exploited at such a young age, to be pressured and looked down upon by his own father, his own flesh and blood. A boy who thought that pleasing his father was unreal, a boy who lived in an illusory environment for sixteen years who was raised to never feel anything, someone who was raised to know power as a factor, but as a need. 

Yes, she pitied him, as much as she loved him.

It was funny how the word turned; he was, to everybody, someone who was lucky, because he evidently had everything. But in truth, he never wanted any of the things offered to him. He lived, only to be deprived of the things he had wanted to be showered with, things he never knew. Things like love. She knew that he would never admit it but it was disturbingly true.

Blaise shook her head wearily, to her; it was almost unfair for him to live his life in that way. He was so young but his future was already mapped out so despicably wrong. Yet to everyone around him, it was never wrong; it was his destiny, all of them had it, all the Slytherins had a purpose to serve for the dark side. 

She observed his chest rising and falling sequentially as he lay on the leather couch and fought the urge to lie down beside him and hold him to her. At that moment she didn't want to be loved by him, she just wanted to be held. Close, as she was not to care if the world upon her came apart.  

He muttered disjointedly in his sleep shifting slightly. And then almost suddenly, his eyes fluttered open focusing on her. She looked calmly in to his eyes and smiled slightly. 

"Hey," she said quietly.

Draco adjusted to the room and looked around recognizing that he was in the Slytherin common room. He pushed himself up on the couch and looked back at her.

"Have you been here all this time?" he asked her. She shook her head slowly as she tugged once more on her cloak. He nodded and looked to the fireplace. 

"What are you doing up?" he said.

Blaise sighed. "Thinking…" she stopped and took in a breath. 

Draco nodded.

"About my father's last letter…" she whispered silently. Her gaze dropped to the carpeted floor as she spoke refusing to look at him in the eye. She could feel his eyes on her.

Draco gazed at her. "So you know then?" he said with a slight tone of mockery in his voice. He would have laughed if the circumstances allowed him to, as if she wasn't already as miserable as she was.

She looked at him, so all this time he knew, she thought.

 "Yes," she whispered. Draco looked at her weary blue eyes and raised his hand to touch her face. He stroked it lightly with the back of his fingers and traced her jaw line intimately. 

Blaise closed her eyes despairingly as he pulled her closer to him on the couch. He wrapped his arm around her back as she laid her head on his chest. He held her tightly as if to secure her place with him.

Draco ran his hand through her red hair, twisting it through his fingers. Blaise silently enjoyed the feel of his comforting hands about her body; she surrendered herself to his embrace. There was nothing to do now but wait, wait for her fate to befall her, wait for his to ensue, and serve their wretched sentence together.

There was no love, there never would be. At that moment, there was only understanding. Something they had long shared ever since they were children.

They sat there all throughout the whole night in silence. Falling asleep in each other's arms, inadvertently sharing sympathy for the other…

~~*

Ginny entered the common room as the portrait swing open. She trudged in to the room dripping with wickwood slime from her last class Herbology where she had an unfortunate accident. A few students in the room snickered at her slimy robes, and she glared at them angrily. She had enough ridicule in the hallway where she unfortunately came upon Malcolm Baddock who told her that she looked like a Christmas tree with the green slime tinting her robes and her flaming red hair. 

Stomping across the room, she aroused almost everyone's attention. Ginny grunted climbing the stairs up to the dormitories. Reaching the landing she walked through the little hallway and turned the corner when – CRASH! 

Ginny fell on her back with a thud. She felt a shock of pain go through her head as she struggled to regain focus. She placed her hand to her forehead as she began to see clearly. Ginny blinked she saw the many books scattered around her. Pushing herself and leaning on her elbows, she turned to see who had crashed in to her.

Considering her bad day, she was about to scream out at the one who had bumped in to her when she found herself staring in to bright green eyes through round glasses. 

"I'm sorry Ginny, are you alright…?" she recognized the voice immediately and froze on her place on the floor. 

Harry stood up quickly and offered his hand to Ginny to pull her up from the floor. Ginny looked at Harry's hand for a moment as if it was a weird kind of dish being served to her, and then she shook her head and took it. He pulled her up quickly.

"Y-yes, I'm alright," she said. 

Harry grinned at the younger girl before him and then crouched down on the floor to pick up his books. Instinctively, Ginny did the same, helping him. She observed that a bit of wickwood slime splattered on his books and blushed.

"I'll take care of that," she said sheepishly as she grabbed her wand waving it at the dampened books.

Harry grimaced. "Thank You," he said. He picked up the rest of the books with him and stood up. Ginny stood beside him. Harry glanced at her messy robes.

"Let me guess, Wickwood pus right?" he said.

Ginny's slight blush grew brighter at his comment. She nodded in discomfiture. For the first time she looked up at his green eyes. Warm and caring as they always were, at that moment they suggested a happy mood. Ginny wondered if it was because of her.

"I figured; Ron had the exact same accident in out fifth year. Must run in the family," he joked. Ginny glared at him. Harry laughed slightly at the sight of her annoyed _expression.

"Not funny Harry, well, I better get cleaned up," she said. 

"You better, before it dries. It's extremely tough to remove; I suggest a hot bath… right away."

Rubbing her cheek, Ginny removed a bit of slime from her face. She found that Harry was right; the slime was really sticky. 

"Guess I better not wear this robe again. Mum's gonna be mad at me when she finds out."

Harry smiled at her sympathetically. "I'll tell you what, I'll buy you a new robe at the next Hogsmeade weekend, will that be alright?"

Ginny's blush grew even deeper as he said this. She would oblige to accept a gift from Harry… but, then again she thought, he might think her too thick if she accepted it openly.

"N-no, don't mind me Harry. It's not your fault. Maybe I'll just ask Fred and George if they can lend me some galleons for a new robe..." she said sheepishly.

Harry shook his head. "Nonsense, I'll tell Ron about it he can go with you to Gladrags." 

"I insist, really Harry I don't really need it that badly."

Smiling, he gave in. "If you say so Ginny."

Ginny looked up at him, not sure what to say. She concluded that it was her cue to leave so she took a step towards the hallway.

She was about to run past him when he stepped in front of her. Ginny looked up at him. She almost shuddered realizing the immediacy between them. 

Her brown eyes met his green ones in an intensifying emotion, which rendered her speechless. She observed his wonderfully contoured features, which she had always admired. His brilliantly colored eyes boring into her own, his normally messy black hair, which was a contrast to his rather slightly, pale skin. For her, everything about him was perfect and considering that then was the first time she actually had a chance to admire him up close increased her dithering esteem for the boy-who-lived. 

Harry gazed at her clear features for a moment and found that she was really exceptionally beautiful. Her red hair contrast with her deep brown eyes, her clear completion made the distinction more evident. But he had never come to notice her that much, for he only thought of her as his best friend's little sister. But now it was different, he could no longer deny the fact that she was a woman. He wondered vaguely if she still had that little childhood crush on him. He had wanted to ask her just that at that moment, but thought against it. With him ignoring her all these years, she would have forgotten it, he decided.

Harry shook his head slightly as she took a step away from him and started to walk away form him as if that moment had never taken place. Harry looked at her retreating figure for a moment and then walked away as well in the other direction.

~~*

Ginny pushed the door of her room open and closed it slowly. She stood there facing the door for a moment with her hand on the lock and handle, her forehead almost touching the door. 

The discomfort in which the Herbology class had ended for her had seemed to simply slip away as she thought of the recent happenings in the hallway. 

She tried to recall his eyes, the look in them when he gazed at her intently. She had wondered desperately what he had wanted to mean, but could not quite place her finger on it. 

Ginny closed her eyes; she must have looked like a fool to him, she thought, remembering the way in which she had behaved. 

Maybe to Harry, Ginny thought, that moment so many instants ago would be forgotten almost straight away. But Ginny knew that for her, it would remain emblazoned on her mind for as long as she lived.    

She sighed, she was almost a woman, and yet, she thought so naively. Being infatuated makes you blind, Ginny had a chance to prove that fact. So little an occurrence which was to mean almost nothing had such big an impact on her feelings. 

The young girl ran her hand through her shoulder-length hair as she tried to collect her thoughts.

It was at that moment she remembered something else she noticed about his curious look upon her face. She saw something she never thought she would see in him, something that was unendurably impossible. Something you'd least expect Harry Potter to ever feel.

She saw loneliness.

Ginny fingered the clasp of her dirty robe and released it, causing her robe to fall on the floor. Her pleated skirt and blouse was thankfully clean. 

Caught up in her thoughts she did not move from her spot in front of the door.

Loneliness, something she had felt for so long. Yes, she knew that she had her friends to count on. Many people cared for her, but she had always felt incredibly insecure. Hermione had always considered her a friend and she had always been a friend to the older girl, but yet, the bond was seemingly unstable to her.

There was something she had wanted to be part of ever since her second year. Her enduring secret wish to be part of the infamous trio, part of the strong circle of friendship that Harry, Hermione and Ron shared.

Ginny was almost sure that if she ever had the guts to tell them about how she felt, they would have laughed in her face. They would have told her how silly she was for ever feeling that way, and they would tell her that she is and will always be part of that friendship. 

But even they would not understand, the special camaraderie that they shared was tight knit. She knew that whatever they would say to her, she would always be the outcast among them. 

Then Ginny realized that something she had to accept. It was that the trio would always be there for her, but that they would always and only be that; a trio.

But she had gotten through that, but now something else was beginning to plague her. Her thoughts trailed back to Harry. Lonely, how could someone like Harry ever feel that way when he had absolutely no reason to feel out of place? Was he really? He was the hero of many (including hers) after all, and his reputation was untarnished. 

She shook her head; maybe she was just imagining it— No! She had seen his _expression; she knew what it was. She began to think, was there something else to Harry that she didn't know?

Almost immediately, it struck her. What if he was lonely in a different way, maybe lonely, and longing for something else. Or curiously, longing for… someone else.

Ginny turned away form the door as her eyes flew open. She immediately made an attempt to stop herself from thinking that she could be a possibility, but unfortunately her mind could not resist straying from the idea. 

She curiously wondered if Harry could ever see her in that way, if he could ever learn to understand her and possibly… 'love' her. 

Was that his intention when he stood before her in the hall? To make her realize that after so long he was ready to do so? 

She shook her head once again, realizing that her hopes were too high. No way was she going to loose herself in an illusory realm she had threatened to fall in to all these years. After all, these past years, she had never really admitted to seriously loving Harry anyway, only to admiring him deeply. She looked upon him as the possible satisfaction she had wanted to attain for so long. 

Did he want to love her? Or was he just curious? She decided to just wait and see as she walked towards the shower dismissing her thoughts.

~~*

Hermione caught a glimpse of Harry motioning the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team to land. Her long thin fingers ran thought the pages of the book she was reading while waiting for them to finish the early morning practice. 

She closed the book and walked down the stands to meet her friends. 

Lavender didn't accompany her that day, because she was busy meeting with her group mates for the research project. Ginny hadn't either, she had Arithmancy essays to write which was, to her, a handful of nonsense. Hermione objected to her language and gave her an unforgettable lecture about how important Arithmancy is to the wizarding world.

So now, she was here, all alone doing something she was least expected to do on her own will. Watch a Quidditch practice session alone on the stands.

Ron motioned for Hermione to come down from the stands as he turned the broom handle of his Nimbus 2000, which he had bought with his savings during the summer vacation. Of course, it was still hardly a match to Harry's Firebolt 3000 but was definitely a crossover from his previous Cleansweep. He landed smoothly on the ground beside Harry and the rest of the team. 

Harry looked at the assembly with a tinge of pride in his eyes. He was almost sure that Gryffindor would win the Quidditch cup this year. The frequency in which he held practices helped in the development of their skills. And Harry knew that there was no other excellently created team. Ron of course who was the keeper, Seamus and Dean as beaters, Collin Creevy, his brother Dennis and surprisingly Parvati Patil who showed a curious interest in flying in their fifth year. Apparently, she had been in her homeland in India where over the summer of their fourth year and along with her sister who was now part of the Ravenclaw's Quidditch team, had got down to practicing flying and had found it enticing.      

Harry fondly recalled the looks on the faces of the other member's of the Quidditch team when Parvati showed up at the Gryffindor locker house asking if the spot for the third Chaser was still open.

"Great round mates," commented Harry as the team gathered around him.

Ron looked astonished. "Great round Harry? What's wrong with you? More like exceptionally wonderful round," he stated in mock astonishment. 

Harry shook his head.

"The next practice will be at Saturday at seven in the evening, are you all alright with that?" asked Harry.

"Fine with me," said Parvati as she dusted her Quidditch robes. "Just not so long Harry, this stress is going to have an effect on my looks," she told them vainly.

Harry nodded with a smile. It was Dean who spoke up.

"Nothing you do affects your looks Parvati," he said, surprising the other boys. It was evident that Dean had an inclination to Parvati but apparently; he was just too shy to admit it.

Parvati blushed in astonishment. Ron slapped his forehead with his hand in irony.

"Alright, so I'll see you all next Saturday," said Harry. The rest of the team answered in the affirmative.

"The Hufflepuff game is on Monday, I suggest we practice some extra maneuvers for that," he added being the determined captain that he was. 

"Practice for Hufflepuff? Are you serious Harry? Because surely you aren't, we're gonna beat them flat on their faces," said Seamus with a laugh. Ron shared his sentiment of pity.

"Don't be so crude, Seamus, they might stand a chance at us," interrupted Parvati. "After all Justin Flinch-Flechery is the seeker for their team, it turns out he's a good flier." 

Ron laughed harder at what she said. "Stand a chance against our Harry? That's a laugh!"

"What Weasley? You don't think that anyone would ever stand a chance against your dear Potter?" said an acidly scornful voice behind them. Harry recognized it immediately. 

The entire Gryffindor Quidditch team turned around to see the Slytherin team in their green themed Quidditch robes, a distance from them, with Draco Malfoy leading the lot. Blaise Zabini who was one of the Chasers stood beside him with an equally scornful look on her face. Crabbe and Goyle behind them who were the beaters, Alexander Flynn who was a blonde haired fifth year as the keeper, and Malcolm Baddock and Dalton Farrell who were the other two Chasers.

Ron stepped forward to stand beside Harry.

"Yes Malfoy, I believe I said that. No one, especially a slimy git like you!" Ron spat at him. 

Draco smirked. "That's the only way you get noticed, isn't it Weasley? By sticking like a leach to Potter's side," he scoffed.

Ron's ears grew red at his retort and was about to attack Draco when Seamus and Dean held his shoulders back.

"I don't know what's your problem Malfoy, but haven't you got better things to do but be an arse around us go find someone else to piss off," said Harry glaring at the Slytherins.

Draco laughed mirthlessly. "Taking in to consideration Potter, your inferior disability to tell time, I believe it is you lot who have no business here," he drawled as he pushed a piece of parchment towards Harry. It was the Quidditch practice schedule.

Harry snatched it away from him and he realized that they had indeed been practicing overtime.

"I should have known better than to book the field on a practice session before you Malfoy, that way, I wouldn't have to stand the sight of your ugly face."     

Draco snickered once again.

"When good looks are concerned Potter, I rank far higher than any of you. I'm sure the ladies wouldn't argue with me…" he drawled as he eyed Parvati who was unable to suppress a slight blush before glaring right back at him.

"Actually Malfoy, I rather go for the smart type of men," retorted Parvati, "I look at you and wonder, where you were when they were handing out common sense."

Draco raised an eyebrow, "I was in the line actually, far before you were," he said acidly.

"You know Malfoy; I don't know how you go through your life without ever feeling disgusted with yourself… Oh, Wait, you don't actually feel anything now do you, peculiarly different from everyone else," spat Ron as he struggled to get loose of Seamus and Dean's firm grips.

"That depends Weasley, on what you mean by everyone else, and if you are part of them. Because if you are, I can't really answer your question, because I have never really felt dirt poor like you and your family are…" he said acidly.

Ron decided that that was enough and he broke lose of the Seamus and Dean's grips. He took a threatening step towards Malfoy and hit him squarely on the cheek. Draco staggered back slightly in to the arms of his girlfriend who glared at Ron savagely.

"Well, I'd have to admit, not bad for a Weasley…" he muttered as he rose to attack Ron.

~

Hermione who was heading down the stands spotted the Slytherin Quidditch team entering the field and approaching Harry and the rest. She instinctively ran towards the group of students and approached just in time to see Malfoy deliver a strong punch to Ron's face.

She pushed thought the bustle of students and rushed to her friend's side.

Ron fell back on the ground as Harry caught him. His mind was spinning but he struggled to stay awake. No way was he giving Malfoy the satisfaction of having knocked him out of consciousness. Ron sat up and glared at the blonde haired Slytherin who sneered at him. Hermione who had just arrived at the scene kneeled down beside him.

She gasped at the blood that trickled down Ron's nose.

Draco was almost surprised when he saw Granger run to Weasley's side just as he had knocked him down. He raised an eyebrow mocking her sympathy for the redhead on the ground. To Draco, it was merely a waste of worry. There was no use worrying over a worthless being like him.

"You're not going to get away with this Malfoy! Mc Gonagall is going to find out about this and you'll be punished," said Colin as he decided to speak up.

Draco scoffed. "Oh really now, mudblood? I believe if you ever tell the teachers anything, Weasley here will be the one in trouble, I have the upper hand because he hit me first if you don't recall…."

He smirked as Hermione turned to glare at him. He found that she actually had the courage to now look at him without being possessed. Apparently, her rage overcame her. Her blazing brown eyes were glaring at him so intensely. Her hair was flying about her face like fire, wild and furious.

Hermione looked at Draco with utter hate. She wanted to strike him as well for what he did to her friend. All her thoughts of him possibly being pleasant dissolved in the hate she felt for him now.

She placed her hand behind Ron's back as he tried to stand up.

Draco's mouth twitched at her action, he wondered to himself again how she could actually care for him. But suddenly, he vaguely speculated how it would feel if she comforted him in the same way but struggled to push the thought out of his mind.

"Aww, how endearingly… appalling," said Draco, his voice acidly emphasizing the last word. "Mudblood Granger sticking up for the Weasel. Tell, me have you gotten as far as taking your whore to bed Weasley? It surprises me how the likes of you ever managed to get a girlfriend… but then again, someone like Granger here is perfect for you. Such filth is all you'll ever deserve."

"Shut up Malfoy," said Harry. "Don't call her that, she's more than you can ever possibly be Malfoy,"

"Oh, Potter, do my words sting you so? Are you harbouring some secret feeling's for Granger now, dearly sorry…" he said in the same annoyingly sarcastic tone.

Harry opened his mouth to retort but stopped. Hermione turned to him surprised that he didn't disagree. Instead, Harry motioned for the team to leave the field and leave the Slytherins to their practice.

Hermione helped Ron up and with one last glare at Draco as she and Ron followed right after the rest of the team.

Draco smiled in content that he had walked away with the last laugh, well not exactly; it was the Gryffindors who had actually walked away but all the same.

As he looked contentedly at the retreating figures of the Gryffindors, he caught the sight of Hermione touching Weasley's bruised cheek, which he had earlier struck. He saw her tell him something and carry on walking towards the castle.

The rest of his team started to kick off on their brooms and he followed lastly. But not before he realized that he had felt a wavering pang of envy at seeing Hermione comforting Ron's injury as the Gryffindor team left the field. He chose to believe that it was nothing, and refused to admit that could be actually jealous of Ron. But that did not delete the feeling of guilt that overcame him when he chose to think that he was just imagining it.

~~*

"Get in here," said Harry as he helped Ron into the door of their dormitory along with Hermione and the rest of the boys.

Ron crashed down miserably on the bed as he put down off the handkerchief that was covering half of his face. He threw the piece of cloth that concealed his injuries on the side of the bed. A few students the team had passed had obviously wondered what as a red bandana doing draped over a robed Quidditch player's face.

"That was ridiculous, honestly Parvati, putting a handkerchief over my head to hide the bruise…"

"Well, we didn't have our wands to hide it. What do think we could have done?" said Parvati standing by the door of the boy's dormitory reluctant to step in.

"Yeah Ron, like Malfoy said, you'd be in trouble if any of the teachers knew," said Dean. 

Seamus nodded in agreement. "Or, if any of the students told…"

"The bleeding seemed to have stopped, hasn't it Ron?" inquired Hermione who had entered the dormitory right after the team.

"Yeah, that git thankfully didn't go as far as breaking my nose."

"Oh well, that's enough. It's not like he was eaten up alive by a blast-ended skrewt. We better be out of here before any of the other students notice we're all crowded up in here," said Harry as he smiled at Ron.

Ron shook his head. "Harry, you're a git," he said simply. The rest of the team exited the room. 

Harry remembered that they had a group meeting with Mandy and Parvati scheduled after Quidditch Practice and assured Ron that he would fill him in on the details of the group's meeting when he got back.

Hermione who had taken a seat on one of the chairs beside Ron's bed started to conjure up a steel bowl in on top of the desk.

Ron looked at it curiously. "What's that for?" he asked.

Hermione grinned at him. "Now you're being the git. It's for that," she said pointing at Ron's bruised cheek.

"Aquaria," she said making water appear out of nowhere in the bowl.

Ron raised an eyebrow. "I don't see why you need it; you have your wand don't you? Just use a healing spell."

Hermione clicked her tongue. "The use of healing spells are not allowed in the dormitories. Ron, honestly, I trusted you to remember something that."  

Ron sighed. "Oh right, and you breaking a school rule is impossible…." 

Hermione rolled his eyes at him. "Well, I thought you needed an excuse for not showing up at your research meeting, you don't want to go now don't you?"

"I never thought I'd see the day when you'd be helping me get out of schoolwork Hermione." 

Hermione laughed, "Don't think this is going to be regularly done Ron,"

Hermione picked up the handkerchief that Ron had carelessly thrown on the floor and dipped it in to the bowl of steaming hot water. She squeezed it up and dabbed the damp cloth on his cheek lightly.

"Ow, that hurts," he whined.

Hermione laughed a bit at his reaction. "Aww, ickle Ronnikins is hurt by the big, mean, wet handkerchief."

Ron glared at her. "Not funny Hermione."

Hermione giggled once more. She turned around and dipped the cloth in the bowl of water and squeezing it the same way.

She turned back to him and cleaned off the bloodstains that had dried on his chin. She remembered a similar situation when Harry's cheek had been cut because of an 'accident' during their fifth year. And when she had found herself unfortunately wandless at that time. 

Hermione glanced at Ron's face content at how she managed to slightly hide the bruises on his face and cleaned the blood off his face.

"You're not expecting me to let this heal on its own are you?" Ron asked Hermione as she pointed her wand at the bowl as it imploded in thin air.

"Why not, it's the Muggle way of healing," she told him smiling.

"They call this healing? How can they, it practically takes forever." 

Hermione laughed, "I bet you Ron Weasley, that you can't get through that injury, without using a healing spell."

"Are you challenging me, Hermione Granger?" he asked her with a mysterious grin. She nodded with a smile. "You're on."

Ron pulled his Quidditch Robe off his head and laid it on his bed. He was wearing the usual yellow and crimson sweater underneath it and his slacks.

He turned back to Hermione who was still sited on the chair before him and observing him.

"Maybe, you have a test to review for three weeks in advance," he said sarcastically in an effort to break the silence. She was meaning to ask something, and he knew it. He had that curious look on her face.

"I wanted to ask how it went with Lavender, I believe you haven't mentioned a word of it to me or anybody else," she asked him. 

Ron's face grew curiously straight as she spoke. Every perceivable _expression disappeared from his face. Hermione guessed that it did not go very well.

He broke in to a grin and closed his eyes.

"Funny you should ask," he started. Hermione raised an eyebrow. 

Ron turned his back to her and picked up his Quidditch padding, which was thrown on the floor. He tossed the pads in to his open trunk slowly.

"She… She said she wasn't ready…" he told her quietly. His voice was faltering a bit and Hermione was surprised that he spoke in such manner.

"Oh, Ron, I'm sorry…" she said sympathetically.

Ron turned around to look at her. But strangely, all the pain that Hermione expected to see in his eyes wasn't there.

"Don't be," he said as he sat down on his bed. "When we talked about it, she made it surprisingly clear that she did like me,"

Hermione took in a breath of slight relief. "She does, it is rather obvious," she said.

Ron grinned. "She even admitted to having this crush on me for quite some time, it's just that she just needs some time."

"Which, I believe you are gratefully willing to give… Am I right?" finished Hermione for him with a smile.

"Couldn't have said it better myself," said Ron.

~~*

Draco entered the library at about six o'clock in a blunt mood.  He began to scan the tables for Granger and Finnegan, and that other Ravenclaw girl. Draco tried to remember what her name was but could not. He concluded that it didn't matter anyway.

Even at that moment when he was busy scanning the tables looking for his group mates, he could still not believe that he was actually meeting up with Gryffindors and a Ravenclaw, even though it was only for compliance sake.   

Finally, Draco spotted a familiar shock of russet as he edged over to the corner of the library. It was Hermione of course; no one else had her bushy brown hair in the school. 

Seamus who was sitting across from her, showed absolutely no interest in what they were doing. 'Stupid fool,' Draco muttered under his breath as he approached the table sullenly. The Ravenclaw girl wasn't with them, but Draco could not care less why.

~

Hermione marked the pages of the book she had scanned for pages concerning the legendary siren as she sat down quietly in the library with Seamus who was rewriting parts of their outline of the final documentary. Seamus had his elbow on the table as he wrote on the scroll Hermione had provided.

Looking up at her group mate, Hermione could see that he did not feel much enthusiasm to what he was doing. He looked bored beyond all reason and Hermione was slightly peeved at his behavior. Unfortunately, Hermione had the tendency to be annoyed at anyone who lacked fervor towards studying so it was nothing new.

Hermione sighed. "Seamus, honestly, you couldn't seem to be less excited," she said.      

Seamus looked at her and grinned warmly. "I'm not exactly a schoolwork enthusiast, Hermione," he told her.

"Perhaps you're a fan of something else Finnegan," said an icily cool voice behind Hermione. "Like lap dancing… on tables at strip bars…"

Hermione froze; of course, she knew exactly who it was. 

Seamus looked up at Malfoy and gave him a deadly glare. "Shut up Malfoy, or I'll stick this bloody book up your…"

Draco smirked, "Oh, do go on Finnegan. Because I'd like to see you try."

"Oh I will…" Seamus said as he stood up and matched Draco's height, threateningly glaring at him. 

"You will do something foolish. Oh right… that's what you Gryffindors are known for after all." He drawled fearlessly threatening Seamus. "If I were you I'd shut up." 

Hermione took in a breath of air. "Why don't you both shut up?" she said with irritation. She turned to look at Malfoy who had averted his glare from Seamus to Hermione. But at the sight of her, his expression involuntarily changed.

She was not angry now, he observed. Hermione maintained a clam and straight face as she looked at Draco warningly.

"Sit down, the both of you…" she said firmly as she turned back to her book and continued scanning it silently.

The two boys shrugged and followed her order with one last glare at each other. Seamus, warningly glancing at Malfoy continued his outlining as Draco took out a few books and pieces of parchment from his bag. He began the task of scanning the books for pictures of the siren and magically copying the moving images to the scroll with his wand.

Hermione glanced up at what Draco was doing then back at her work. She wondered why she hadn't thought of doing that herself when she had the time. Hermione glanced back at Draco.

"You were late Malfoy," she said.

Seamus nodded with a slow smile.

Draco looked at her. "Well, if you hadn't chosen such a secluded spot to conduct this… meeting, I should have been much earlier," he drawled. "Don't you think so?"

Hermione shrugged. "I'm sure you wouldn't want to be seen with a mudblood Malfoy." Seamus glanced at Hermione, surprised that she referred to herself in such a manner. 

Draco leered mirthlessly, "Oh, Granger, I didn't know you cared."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him and concluded that the idea of ever trying to converse civilly with Draco Malfoy was utterly preposterous. 

~~*

Hermione had finished up marking the pages of her book with scraps of parchment almost an hour ago and was now finishing a summarization of an article on the breeding habits of the siren.

Malfoy was sitting a distance away from her and was busy writing something on his scroll. Seamus left about half an hour ago as he finished the outlining Hermione had made him do.

Hermione sighed; they would have finished hours ago if only Padma hadn't been absent because of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team's practice session. 

She scribbled the last sentences of the paragraph she was writing, and took in a breath of relief as she finished.  

Looking up from the roll of parchment he was finishing, he glanced at the girl across from him who was apparently done with her work. 

"So, do I get to go now?" he asked her coolly. Hermione looked surprised at his sudden statement. They had remained silent for a few hours and both were surprised that that time had gone by without an argument breaking out.

Hermione looked at the scroll he held that was filled with the moving pictures. "Are you done with that?" 

Draco shrugged and rolled the paper back and pushed it in to his bag. Did she really expect that he would stick around to finish something so simple just because she expected him to?

"Apparently Granger," he lied. Hermione looked at him looking like she doubted him but shrugged and stood up to pack her things.

She reached across the table and grabbed her quills that Seamus had borrowed earlier. Her hair fell down from behind her back as she bent to reach for the quills, concealing Draco's view of her face. 

As Draco continued to watch her pack up her things, he realized that she didn't really lack the feminine grace that he thought she was never capable of. He observed her light face and dark features, her hair which was loose as usual, hung messily around her face and her bright hazel eyes reflected the torch light which burned across from her on a torch holder above the table they had used for that study session. It was then when Draco thought that she was not really nerd material. She had thought her lenient in the past and though he would oppose to the thought as long as he lived, a voice in his head unfortunately could not cease telling him that he really thought it was so.

Draco admired dark hair ever since he was a child; his mother's porcelain dolls with brown to black hair attracted him most. The dark hair color was such a contrast to what he had been so used to seeing on real people like his parents and himself. 

Hermione's deeply colored chestnut brown hair was in one of the shades that he found alluring, but yet every time the thought creped in to his mind he remembered that she was a mudblood and not worthy of his admiration.

Hermione began to bag the many books that she had brought to the library for the group's study session and realized that Malfoy's books were mixed up with hers. But that was hardly a problem she thought as she began to pick out her books from the table. 

She had found the title of one of his books familiar and she picked it up off the table. "The Song of the Sirens"  

Hermione glanced at Draco slowly and found that he was observing her silently.

She cleared her throat and his _expression grew evidently cooler, but he did not look away from her.

"Did you base your report from this book?" she asked him calmly. Hermione flipped the cover open and began to scan the pages of the book.

Draco snorted, "It seems that you've done a good job of stating the obvious Granger," he said icily.

Hermione looked up from the book and glared at him and then turned back to his book.

"How come I have never seen this in the library selections?" she asked.

"It's from the library at the manor. I had my mother send them," he told her nonchalantly as he stood up and began to fix his things as well. Draco began to place all of his books in his bag.

Hermione glanced at him with wide eyes; she was about to express her astonishment that Malfoy had his own personal library but thought against it. It would be too naïve of her to have said so, and besides, what would he have said?

Hermione closed the book and stepped towards him to hand it to him. She wanted to read the book some more but she guessed that he would never lend anything to a mudblood.

Draco turned around and looked at her, handing him the book. He looked at the book for a moment and then gazed back at her face.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "If you expect me to wipe this off to get my mudblood germs off it, you've got another thing coming," she said.

He shrugged and turned back to fixing his things. For a moment, Hermione felt insulted but not until he spoke. 

"Keep it Granger, I don't need it anymore… and I think you'll find it helpful, since you're the only one in this group that harbors so much dedication to this bloody project," he said casually as he fastened the buckle on his bag.

Hermione looked at him in astonishment that he would just give away something as precious as a book. A very informative one in that case, "No, I can't take it."

Draco turned back at her. It was his turn to roll his eyes, "For goodness sakes Granger, it's bloody book! My library must have ten more copies."

A frown touched Hermione's face. "You talk about books as if they don't matter."

"Trust me, they won't, if you ever live in a house that had millions of them," he told her sullenly. 

"If I lived in a house with millions of books Malfoy, I don't think I'd even want to try to leave…" Hermione told him. She realized that they were having a conversation. Which was funny because they had gone so far without even taking a blow to each other's ego. Hermione wondered where her astonishment was at her realization, but at that moment when she caught him looking at her face so intently; it surprisingly ceased to matter.

He continued to look at her even after he replied to her statement with a sardonic look. But he unconsciously lost the look as he gazed in to her eyes. Her eyes which were so bright and lively as they were all the time, they never failed to maintain the knowing glow in them even if she was tired. Compared to his, which were cold and unfeelingly gloomy, to him, her eyes, her hair, her features in their entirety were foreign to him. She was to him, something she was always meant to be… out of reach. Of course he never wanted her to be anything more… Did he?

Silver, Hermione thought, Silver, not gray. Gray is gloomy, dead… With those liquid pools of silver, he looked at her now. And she looked at him, returning the calm _expression. Calm? Hermione did not even know. Did she look calm to him? It didn't seem to matter. But it did, her mind desperately tries to comprehend what she was feeling at that moment. It took her a few moments to recognize that it was the same feeling that overcame her on the train and in the Prefect's meeting room. It was the same annoyingly impracticable confusion that he never failed to make her feel when he looked at her that way. 

Malfoy was cold; he was everything she hated, everything she was supposed to be against but it seemed that, the only time when she found herself feeling so strongly was when…

It was then when Draco's surprisingly expression softened. She recognized it. It was back again, and she knew it, the look that she had unknowingly come to love. Something she would want to drown in, because the look was on him now for her to enjoy. Because he was always beautiful as she had always thought him to be. No matter how much her mind racked at her to stop thinking such foolish thoughts.

Hermione suddenly turned away from him, what was she thinking? She shouldn't be thinking such things about Malfoy. She forced herself to think about how many times he had never failed to make her life miserable but could not think of anything at that moment. 

Draco's mouth twitched as Hermione turned her back to him. He apprehended that he had just done something he had gone to great limits to, just to stop from doing. He had let emotion fall on his features.

Emotion… He didn't know what he felt at that moment, but he was aware of the fact that she had caused him to feel it.

What was with her that made him so effortlessly manipulated by something as useless as sentiments especially by someone as lowly as her? At such an early age he had been taught to hate mudbloods, but as he grew older, he also was slightly in awe of how such a being could ever prove to be superior to him. 

But doubt had begun to seep in to him at that time and he had accepted the fact that his father was not always right. But was he not right about hating muggle-borns as well?

Especially someone like Granger, who made him feel too bloody confused. 

Draco moved towards her closing the short distance between them; not knowing that he had done so until he had stopped behind her and was aware of the immediacy between them. Hermione turned around in surprise and suddenly became aware of it as well. She gasped as she observed how small she was, compared to him. Hermione met his eyes once more and totally melted in to them. And with one glance, she knew, that she couldn't look away again, if she tried.

He saw a lock of brown hair fall on to her face and fought the urge to brush it away from her face. He was caught between the craving to turn away from her and leave and the strange desire to gather her up in his arms and hold her. Wondering how pleasurable it would feel to have her against him.

He studied her flushed face in silence as she continued to hold her gaze upon his. And as he finally found it in him to look away, he turned away from her and without a single word; he left the library.

As she heard the main doors of the library close, she shut her eyes and fell upon the chair behind her, half relieved, and half distressed.    

~~*

He ran his hand through his hair angrily as he continued to calm himself.

He hated her, so much for making him feel so confused every time he looked in to her eyes. Never had he felt the annoyingly childish perplexity in his life until she had opened his eyes to everything, without even knowing that she had done so.

He was brought up to hate people of her kind, and look down upon them. But she, she was the only person who could ever make him feel inferior to her. Even Harry never made him feel such. 

She was a mudblood, and if there was anything she was to him, it was an enemy. 

But strangely, she was something that had actually made him forget all the pressures and pains of his impending responsibilities.

He had looked at her, and all the things Lucius had taught him had dissolved in an instant. Everything he had struggled to forget, he had indeed forgotten. In that transitory moment when she had looked in to his eyes and when he saw something he thought he would never see on someone like her… understanding.

Draco wondered curiously if Granger really did want to understand him. Or at least, try to. For a fleeting moment, he had wanted her to, but then he surrendered to the fact that she would be the last person to succeed at such a task. For he himself could not even understand himself.

Moments ago, he looked at her and admitted to the beauty she always possessed. Something he had never seen on anyone, such innocent and simple beauty, even she was too blind to recognize.  Something he had wanted to shatter, because of how she made him feel. He knew at that moment that the radiant vision of her standing so innocently before him, wordlessly trying to understand him would never leave his memory. 

He swore, knowing that that vision would continue to plague him for the rest of his life.

It angered him to be weakened by someone like her. She made him feel an inexplicable pain that he had never felt before. Even at that moment in the library, he had wanted to pain her. But he couldn't explain why he hadn't done it. Perhaps the urge had disappeared all together.

Instead he had wanted to hold her, to have her in his arms. But he didn't know why, he hated himself for ever thinking of something so preposterous. But then, for a moment, the thought felt extremely comforting. And he knew it.

Entering, he sullen chambers in the Slytherin dungeon, his mind echoed with those disturbing words.

Hermione Granger was not the woman he thought her to be. 

~~*

It was a bright September morning, and the morning sun rose brilliantly in the east reflecting over the vast green moors surrounding the Hogwarts castle. The wind was gently blowing around the enchanted mountains, as it seemed to have picked up a rhythm of its own.

Hermione gazed out her window and stood in the morning breeze as a smile touched her lips. She took in the wonderful weather that she had hoped for on that exceptionally beautiful Saturday. 

For that day was scheduled, a trip to Hogsmeade and Hermione was very sure that it would be wonderfully enjoyable for her and her friends. 

Hermione remembered that her birthday was coming up the very next Friday and was extremely delighted now because her mother had given her an early birthday present at the end of the school year of about twenty galleons, which she was free to spend on that day. 

Of course, Hermione would not spend the whole lot on that day; she would just buy a few things she wanted.

Hermione was almost sure that neither Harry nor Ron would be interested in spending the day shopping with her so she decided to take Ginny with her. She was sure that the other girl would enjoy being with her for the day.

Turning to the bathroom, Hermione decided to dress up for the day.

~

"Hermione, hurry up, the stagecoaches are about to leave," called Harry from the Gryffindor common room as he, Ron and Ginny waited patiently for their friend.

Almost instantly, the patter of footsteps was heard on the stone steps leading to the common room. Hermione appeared and she practically sprinted down the steps.

She was dressed in a plain black skirt whose length was just above her knees, which revealed her pale white legs. Her outfit topped with a sleeveless red blouse. Her hair was tied in a bun atop her head.

Ginny smiled at Hermione's wonderful choice in clothing and started to laugh when she saw that Harry and Ron could barely keep their mouths closed. Hermione blushed slightly at their reactions.

"Does it really look that awful?" she asked them all.

Ginny observed that her brother and Harry were too awed to talk so she answered her.

"It's great, Hermione," she nudged her brother in the ribs. "Isn't it Ron?" 

"Yes, great," Ron choked. Harry who was beside him had seemed to regain his senses and nodded right along with Ron.

"Wonderful choice," said Harry, thankfully less shocked.

Ron looked at him in shock and saw that he was indeed serious of what he thought.

Ron went over to the couch where there was a black robe hanging in the armrest and handed it to Hermione. 

She looked at it in bewilderment. "What's that for?" she asked.

"Wear it," said Ron.

Hermione looked at him with wide eyes. "Over my outfit?"

"That's the idea," said Ron. He turned to Harry and surprisingly, his friend nodded in agreement.

Hermione tuned to Ginny. And she looked at her sympathetically. Her friends, apparently, did not approve of her strutting around Hogsmeade in such a daring outfit. And since she couldn't do anything about it, she took the robe with a shrug and wore it.

They walked out of the Gryffindor common room headed for the stagecoaches waiting bellow. 

~~*

Hermione and Ginny entered Gladrags just as a gust of wind blew at the glass doors of the shop. The two girls had decided to have a little round of shopping before they headed back to the Three Broomsticks where they would meet up with Harry and Ron, who had abandoned them for Zonko's Joke Shop where they decided to visit Fred and George who were now the current store keepers of it.

Hermione guessed that by the time they returned to the castle, she should keep her guard up because of the pranks that might befall her. Ginny had thought the same as well, for her fifteen years in the Weasley household taught her to never let her guard down around her mischievous brothers.

Even as Ginny took one step in to the clothes shop, she flew in to a frenzy of shopping as she delighted in the many selections of dress robes and accessories the store offered. Her excitement was even doubled by the knowledge that Gladrags had just had a new shipment of clothes, and for her; that meant a change of fashion sense once again.

Hermione, fortunately, did not share her enthusiasm that much.  Clothes shopping was never one of her pastimes and now wouldn't be an exception.

She followed Ginny silently around the isles as she began to mark all the robes she would purchase as soon as she had saved up enough money.

"Oh, Hermione," the young girl squealed. "This would look absolutely wonderful on you!"

Hermione sighed and went over to her friend who was holding out a dark jade colored robe that had silver embroidery on its lower half of elegant abstract curves that reminded her of a design she had seen on a wall painting in a Muggle museum.

Hermione had to admit that she admired Ginny's sense of style, because she loved her choice. The dress robe was beautiful, of course, but Hermione just didn't think that green would fit her very well. It reminded her of something the Great Hall was decorated in on a bad day. Like when the house cup was won by Slytherin. 

Hermione cringed at the thought, she wasn't sure if she wanted to loose the House cup to Slytherin this year even if it was the farthest thing from her mind. She had the largest confidence in Gryffindor house to ever doubt it now.

"I don't think so, Ginny. Maybe something a bit warmer in color," she suggested.

Ginny gaily put the dress robe back and began to search the stands for something else. 

Hermione who could not help her self, started to look at the selections taking one robe out after the other and then placing them back again when she did not like them.

After about half an hour of looking, something finally caught her eye. Taking her robe of choice out of the stand, Hermione pulled out a bright crimson dress gown, which was exceptionally attractive. She ran her hand over the soft fabric wondering if it would be comfortable to wear on an occasion such as the coming Yule Ball. The event was months away, Hermione thought, but then she concluded that it would never be too early to start planning.

The gown had a simple elegantly designed bodice whose shoulder straps were knotted at the top in loose bows. In the middle, a belt of the same red color, which was wide at the back of the dress and closed in thinner at the front area, the two ends held together with a silver clasp. The gown's lower half of the gown, flowed beautifully and formed a train right at the end. Hermione was sure that if she did wear this dress, she would surely cause a much bigger stir than she had last year and the year before. She held it up to herself for a moment and smiled in the satisfaction that it was nearly a perfect fit.

"That's it, I'm taking this dress," she thought to herself as she handed the red robe to the nice sales witch that was waiting patiently on them for the last half hour.

Hermione turned behind her and found that Ginny was gone. Hermione sighed and began to probe the store for her friend.

She found Ginny by the scarves section, where several beautifully designed shoals hung. She was admiring a bright yellow one that she had pulled out and tried it around her neck before a mirror.

Hermione approached her and smiled.

"It looks wonderful," she commented.

"Yes, I know. It would fit wonderfully on my white summer dress, don't you think?" Ginny asked, turning to Hermione. 

"It would be a nice touch." 

Ginny sighed. "It's too bad I can't buy it yet…"

Hermione looked at Ginny, aware that she was again sad that she couldn't buy it. It was the same every time she promised to save up for something she liked. Once Ginny had enough money, the thing she was to buy was already gone from the shop, leaving her upset that she had been too late.

Ginny started to return the scarf to the stand and exit the store to wait for Hermione outside as she paid for the dress. 

"Will this be all?" the sales witch asked Hermione. 

She turned to the old red-haired witch. "No," she said as she went over to the stand of scarves and pulled out the same yellow one that Ginny had admired earlier. "I'll be taking this as well."    

~~*

Hermione held a mischievous smile as she exited Gladrags as Ginny could observe. She looked at her oddly and was meaning to ask what was with her when she decided to just ignore it.

Hermione had the scarf bundled in her shopping bag along with her dress gown. She would give it to Ginny eventually, but she decided, not then. Maybe before they left for France, she thought. Yes, then would be a perfect time.

"Look!" Ginny suddenly exclaimed turning to a shop at the far end of the village. "Tinsel Craft's has a new shipment of jewellery," she continued as she saw some men bring in a few crates in to the shop from a stagecoach that was parked in front of the store.

"Let's go see."

Hermione sighed and followed Ginny through the street as she headed towards the jewellery store.

~

Tinsel Crafts was a small shop, but just the right size to display the many selections of jewels and gems. The bell hanging on the door rang as Hermione and Ginny entered the shop. The shop was brightly lit; almost all sides of the shop had display glasses, which displayed the beautiful selections of jewellery. 

Ginny could tell from Hermione's expression that she was absolutely awed by the shop she had clearly never been in before.

The shopkeeper, an elderly woman with graying blonde hair called Madame Holrick, greeted them with a mild smile. A few men who had brought the new shipment of the jewellery had begun to exit the store, as the crate was successfully open.

Ginny and Hermione approached the glass counter, as Madame Holrick started to take out the stacks of jewellery cases from the crate and put the many accessories out for display.

"What can I help you with young ladies?" she asked merrily as she turned to Hermione and Ginny.

"Oh, nothing much Madame Holrick, we just came to look around," said Ginny. "I hope you don't mind." 

The old lady smiled, "Not at all Ms. Weasley, but if something may just in case catch your eye; tell me about it, I'd gladly reserve it for you."

Ginny grinned and began to drag Hermione around the shop pointing out many beautiful gems they both admired.

"Percy bought a ring here which he gave to Penelope for her birthday, he tagged me along with him, and gave Madame Holrick the hardest lime of her life," said Ginny as they stopped at the ring section fondly remembering the experience.

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione curiously. 

Ginny smiled, "I must have suggested a thousand rings but he didn't want any of them, he was never contented with any of them. I had begun to wonder why he dragged me off here anyway. But them, he found the 'perfect' one, he says; it was a triple silver ring with a big sapphire stone circled with diamonds."

"Sounds reasonable," said Hermione.

"I hated it," Ginny admitted. "But the funny thing is, Penelope loved it."

Hermione smiled, "Perhaps, it didn't matter," she said. "Someone she loved gave it to her after all."

Ginny returned the gesture nodding in agreement. 

"I'll go check those out," said Hermione as she turned towards the front counter, which displayed a variety of necklaces.

Hermione looked over the selection one by one and admired each one's elegance and delicate style. However, one specific necklace attracted her gaze. Hermione turned to Madame Holrick to catch her attention.

"Yes dear, what necklace was it?" 

"This one, next to the silver one with the moonstone," said Hermione courteously as she motioned to the silver necklace with an onyx theme on its end.

Madame Holrick pulled it out from the glass display case and handed it to Hermione. Hermione ran her eyes over the beautiful piece of jewellery admiring the elegant design it possessed. A series of black onyx stones shaped in teardrops framed by stylishly crafted silver hung from a rather twisted silver chain.

"Wonderful choice my dear, I believe this one dates beck to the eighteen hundreds, as its design suggests it," she said, relaying its history. "I remember I got it from a rather mysterious woman who was peculiarly desperate to sell it."

Hermione nodded, wondering who in their right mind would ever even think of selling such a beautiful creation. "Do you think it was a family heirloom?" she asked.

"Hmmm, come to think of it, it seems so," Madame Holrick said approvingly. 

Hermione wondered for a moment if she should buy it, but then she remembered all the other things she was to do with her birthday money, like save it for Christmas gifts. But just in case, she decided to ask how much it was.

"This is going to be a pain in one's pocket my dear," she said shaking her head. "But I believe I could push a few galleons off it for you…"

Hermione leaned farther on the glass counter in anticipation.

"It's about two hundred eighty galleons," she said finally. Madame Holrick smiled observing Hermione's shocked _expression.

"Two hundred eighty galleons?!" she asked in bewilderment.

"You can have it for two hundred seventy seven dearie, would you like to reserve it…"

Hermione looked at the necklace. She understood that considering its age and beauty, it was bound to cost much. But she really did want it and she wondered how long it would take her to save up for something like that.

"Uhmm, no, I'm not sure when I'd be able to finally buy it anyway," she said "Probably after I graduate seventh year," she joked.

The older woman looked at her with a smile. "It will be waiting for you, don't worry." 

~~*

Draco stood before the old Hogsmeade inn and sullenly entered its gloomy doors.  His hands were pocketed in his black robes and his dark mood didn't seem any different to that of the pubs when he entered it.

It was the usual sight; the room was dimly lit even though it was a bright day outside, the booths were barely filled and the morose music being played from the old piano beside the bar couldn't have been more unwelcoming. Draco silently wished that this entire place would be burned down as he left for it seemed to him a cursed burial ground which was home to nothing but dead spirits.

Draco walked over to his usual seat at the end of the pub, which was hardly lit at all. He sat down on the chair quietly and leaned on the backrest in an effort to relax. 

Suddenly, a hunched over man appeared at the side of his table; snorting sickeningly. Draco eyed him with a deadly stare for disturbing him so unexpectedly. 

"What can I get you Mr. Malfoy?" he asked him, fear was evident in the man's voice as he stood before Draco.

"What else you fool?" Draco hissed ungratefully.

The man cowered fearfully. "I'll take that for a blue martini," he muttered, and without another word, he disappeared before Draco's eyes.

Draco looked towards the door and saw that the man he was waiting for had arrived. A tall brown haired man dressed in a black cloak similar to what Draco was wearing was quickly approaching the table cautiously.

"You're late Vathek," drawled Draco with irritation as the other man sat before him.

"You think I'd want to be Draco? This town is crawling with Aurors in disguise," he told Draco who looked at him in a very identifiable way his father would look at him if he had done the same offence. 

"I know, I know, they can smell a dark mark from a mile away," said Draco with evident indifference to him. This man who he had grown so familiar with ever since his childhood was now beginning to annoy him because of the fact that he came here to tell him of matters he would not choose to discuss. Matters his father forced him to understand.

"Your father couldn't come," said Vathek indifferently as the younger boy smirked.

"As always," muttered Draco.

"His schedule was far too packed even to arrange for this meeting, I expected you to consider…" 

Draco smirked once more, "Hah! Being considerate is not a Malfoy trait Vathek; it certainly should not be performed especially around another Malfoy."

Just then, Draco's blue martini appeared on the table before him. Draco took the drink almost instantly and took a sip.

Vathek marvelled at the young boy's mettle, he was indeed, his father's son. "Aren't you too young to be drinking that Draco?"

Draco scoffed, "Tell that to my father, he actually encourages it."

"Lucius is not happy Draco, by how you have been ignoring him recently." 

The young Slytherin raised an eyebrow at Vathek and looked at him with an _expression that openly suggested that he didn't care. 

"Tell me something I don't know Vathek," Draco said with the same air of indifference Vathek had sensed in him ever since he entered the room. 

"This is not a joke," the older man looked at him severely "As you continue this childish attitude, you are not only ignoring your father, but you are ignoring your future life."

"Ah, quoted from Lucius, I'm sure," said Draco sipping his blue martini once again. He delighted in angering Vathek, knowing that he could do nothing about it. Lucius would have his head if he had found out that he had laid a finger on his only son and heir. 

"It is not amusing," he said with gritted teeth. He glared at Draco scornfully. 

"Your father requests that you take his orders seriously now, it could mean something you will soon regret if you don't," he told Draco.

Draco shrugged, as he had no choice but to listen. Vathek took out a folded piece of paper and pushed it towards Draco. 

"It's a map of Orne country," he said. "Take it with you to France, you'll find it most helpful."

"So, father is serious about me leaving Brentenoux?" asked Draco.

Vathek nodded. "You should know, that Lucius never jokes Draco," Draco rolled his eyes at this remark. He was sick of hearing everyone sing praises for his father, as if he really deserved that much respect.

"There is a portkey point at Quistreham, it's the quickest way to London," he said "Anyway, it's all there; Lucius trusts you are old enough to find your way?"

Draco looked at him sternly. "Of course I am," he hissed.

Vathek shrugged as he stood up. "Very well then, goodbye Draco," he said not meaning it. He couldn't be happier to get away from such an ungrateful brat like him. With one pop, Vathek disappeared from sight.

~~*

Hermione pushed a lock of hair from her face as she turned from one corner scarcely avoiding stepping in to the light that one of the torches provided in the dark. She pushed the portrait open as she prepared to venture out in the middle of the night to the library once again. She knew it was against the rules, but she could not sleep either, knowing that she had missed a whole day of studying when she decided to go shopping in Hogsmeade with her friends.

She held a book and some pieces of parchment in her one hand and Harry's invisibility cloak in the other. He had lent it to her thankfully without even wanting to know why. Hermione had a feeling that he already knew.

"Out again my dear?" asked the fat lady as she looked at Hermione curiously.

Hermione nodded and quickly, she slipped the invisibility cloak over her head. She walked off, walking quietly through the silent hallways headed towards the library.

"Be careful," said the fat lady behind her.

~

She pushed open the vast doors of the library as she entered the large hall. It was rather dark; as only a number of curtains were pulled back to let the illuminate rays of moonlight coursed though the clear glass providing the dim lighting of the library.

Hermione stood still a moment, observing her surroundings hearing if anyone was there. But seeing as there was no one, she decided to take off her cloak and fold it up for the time being. She walked slowly towards the bookcases, which seemed like tall looming shadows in the dark. She headed towards the study area that was situated behind the isles of books. Hermione walked slowly towards the tables when she saw something that made her blood run cold. 

There was a dim lamplight burning on one of the tables. There was clearly someone here. 

Hermione decided to see who it was as she moved farther by the bookshelf to get a better view of the table. She sighed in relief as she realized that the table was empty. There were various books stacked on it, and some pieces of parchment littered around the table. But then, it didn't mean that there was no one there.

Hermione turned around in an attempt to look for the person who had apparently been studying in the late night as well, when she was startled by a dark figure stood in front of her. Her heart raced once again as it had just moments ago and she let out a scream. 

Her distress however was useless as a gloved hand, which went right over her mouth, silenced her.

~

Draco stood up from where he was sitting in his place in the dark library in the dead of night. He heard the library doors creak open and decided that it would not be wise if anyone found him there especially under the circumstances. He was after all a prefect, and one of the least people expected to break the school rules. 

Moving quietly through the isles of books, he strained his ears to hear where the light footsteps were coming from and then realized that they were very close to him. 

He could see the figure headed towards his study area and as it moved in closer to the tables, he realized just who it was.

Hermione turned towards him and let out a shriek; he pulled her to him and covered her mouth with his hand. She struggled in his arms, thinking that she was being attacked. She vigorously tried to pull away from him as he held her. And for a moment Draco had the pleasure of knowing that she was helpless in his arms but then he decided to cease her annoying struggling.

"Shut up mudblood!" he hissed in her ear.

Hermione froze as his grip in her loosened. Draco dropped his arms as she took a few staggering steps away from him. She turned around instantly and looked at Draco disbelievingly. Draco stepped in to the dim light provided by his oil lamp on the table he had been studying on earlier.

"What do you think you're doing here?" she spat at him as she regained her composure.

Draco rolled his eyes at her and started towards the study area. "What else do you do in a library?" he said sarcastically.

"Come to think of it… how did you get here," said Hermione with the same startling tone.

Draco strode over to the table walking past her. "I'm a Slytherin… what do you expect?" he said nonchalantly as he sat back down on the study table reopening his books. Hermione walked over to the table and sat down in front of him. To her surprise, he didn't seem to mind.

"Tsk, tsk Granger, I should take some house points off you for sneaking out late at night," said Draco. Hermione glared at him.

"And you committed the same offense just to catch me in the act? Malfoy, that's something you call senselessness," she retorted.

Draco shrugged as he turned back to the books he was reading.  

Draco looked at her from across the table and observed her glancing curiously at the books she had clearly never read before. And before he knew what he was doing, he took up one book and pushed it towards her. 

He smirked when he caught the _expression on her face that made her look like she was being fed live worms.

"It's a book on the siren," he told her not bothering to see if she opened it at all.

Hermione looked at the book. And without hesitation, she opened it up and started to read.

~~*  

Three hours passed as the both of them sat in silence, intently concentrating on researching and listing down as many facts as they could. It seemed like an informal contest which the both of them quietly enjoyed. It was funny how the both of them were so contradictory yet now they found each other's presence secretly comforting.

Hermione observed that Draco had so many references; she had a sudden desire to want to be in the Malfoy library just for one day. Maybe she would have a field day if that ever happened. But then she knew that Lucius Malfoy would rather die than have a mudblood enter his house. 

Hermione decided not to think about it anymore as she finished the last book that she had read. She reached across the table and took another book, which she automatically opened. 

She read the title page but realized that it was not in English, but in French.

Hermione looked up at Draco who was writing something on a piece of parchment. As if he could feel her eyes on him, he looked up at her meeting her gaze.

"This one is in French, you understand it don't you?" asked Hermione softly as she knew she had caught his attention.

Draco was surprised at her civil tone. "You don't speak French?" Draco asked her. There was a slight tone of mockery in his voice. "I'm surprised at you Granger, don't tell me that mind of yours has run out of space…"

Hermione shrugged. "I understand it but, I haven't actually grasped conversing and speaking yet," she said, looking at him. For once, Draco seemed like he was actually interested in what she was to say.

"Too bad, because that's the most useful book I've found so far…" he drawled as he shut the book in front of him. His fingers, which were gloved in black, started tapping on the book.

Hermione looked at him with a confident look on her face as he rested his back on his chair in an effort to stretch his cramped muscles after the long hours of throwing themselves in to schoolwork.

"That gives me a good reason to want to translate it," she said. 

Draco eyed her curiously as she spoke. "Take it then, it'll give you a good French lesson," he said carelessly.

Suddenly, Draco heard a soft creaking sound. He realized that it was the doors of the library opening again. After a few moments, the sound was followed by perceivable footsteps in the dark. 

"In here, my sweet. I heard some voices in the dark," said a sickeningly slimy voice. Draco was sure it was none other than… 

Filch.

Hermione who seemed to have heard the voice too sat still, evidently nervous that they might get caught. She glanced at Draco in alarm, who stood up abruptly and turned down the oil lamp leaving them in the darkness.

Hermione was on the brink of panicking, she couldn't imagine what would happen if she got caught. It would be disgraceful for someone like her. 

"Do you plan on staying here Granger?" Draco whispered quietly from behind her. Hermione turned around to face him, wherever he was.

"Of course not," she answered back. For a moment she did not know what Draco intended to do but she was suddenly surprised when he grabbed her right hand and started leading her down the isles of books behind the study area.

"I can hear you, come out! You can't hide," said Filch as his paces started to grow louder as he entered the library.

Draco and Hermione stopped at the corner of one bookshelf as Filch was beginning to draw closer. Hermione was pressed against Draco's chest as they hid in the dark corner of a colossal post that was the only place they could hide against. They were both desperately hoping that Filch would go in the other direction. 

Draco swore under his breath as he realized that they were cornered. Filch was an isle away and in a few moments he would undoubtedly find them as he crossed the next isle. 

Hermione's heart started pounding rapidly as she heard the illusive caretaker's footsteps in the gloom. He was close, she could tell. She remained pressed to Draco's strong build as she waited for the worst but then she felt something pressed against her side. 

Hermione remembered that she had something that could unmistakably take them out of this mess. She cursed herself inwardly for being so stupid not thinking of it earlier.

The invisibility cloak.

Hermione suddenly shifted in her place as she pulled out the invisibility cloak from her big robe pocket.

Draco was almost startled when she moved. Through the gloom, he saw her pull out what seemed like a shimmering cloak and pull it over the both of them. Draco wondered what it was as he could see their surroundings clearly. Hermione who was against him and quietly standing still didn't seem to be in an explaining mood at the moment. 

It was when Filch walked past them when he realized what it was, of course, an invisibility cloak. At that single moment, he realized that all his questions on why Harry got away with so many things without getting caught. In the third year at Hogsmeade, when he saw Harry's head floating in mid air, it was nothing but the cloak.

Hermione took a breath of relief as Filch exited the library with Mrs. Norris purring behind him with a click of the doors.

Hermione had her hand against Draco's chest as she stood there breathing in respite as they were out of trouble. Draco leaned his back against the wall further in the same sentiment. He looked down at Hermione who seemed to be too reassured to ever care to move away from him. 

He was about to cruelly shoo her away and tell her not to touch him when he found that he couldn't. So he silently stood there, enjoying the feel of her on him wondering why he had never known that a woman like her could make him feel so light and comforted. Before he knew it, he raised a hand and stroked her hair lightly realizing that it didn't feel as rough as it looked. It was as soft as cotton and he could do nothing but enjoy the feel of it. 

Hermione's eyes shot open as Draco touched her hair suddenly. She dropped her hand from its position on her chest. She had not even been aware that she was still pressed against him at that moment. But then as she willed herself to pull away, she stopped and surrendered herself to the pleasure his touch provided. She could feel his chest rising and falling, as she stood there aware of his arm around her. For a transitory moment, she wanted that moment to go on forever and ever without her ever wanting to let go. She felt peculiarly satisfied in his arms.

Something least expected of someone as seemingly cold as Draco Malfoy.

They stayed in that curious situation for a moment before he pulled off the invisibility cloak off the both of them. Hermione suddenly took a few steps away from him as if only then expressing shock for her actions.

"So this is why Potter always gets away with murder," he said softly breaking the silence.

Hermione looked up at him and in surprise she saw that his _expression held so much calmness and composure, as if the moment before never happened at all. 

"Y-you saved me from trouble there," she said as she took out her wand and waved it at the torch above Draco's head brightening their dim spot. She saw a few strands of blonde hair fall over his pale face as he crooked his head and met her gaze.

Draco glanced at her curiously. "No, actually, I just saved Filch the trouble of walking us up to the headmaster's office and demanding for a reward for catching two prefect's out of bed at midnight," he said.

Hermione sighed. It took everything in her not to laugh, but she could not suppress a grin. "You really are a git Malfoy."

Draco smirked. He bundled up the invisibility cloak and tossed it over to Hermione. She caught it and looked back at him.

"And proud of it," he said sardonically.

~~*

_Should you go first and I remain  
One thing I'd have you do;  
Walk slowly down that long, lone path,  
For soon I'll follow you.  
I'll want to know each step you take  
That I may walk the same  
For someday down that lonely road,  
You'll hear me call your name._

_~Albert Rowswell_


	5. Illusive Nightfall

~~*

We, unaccustomed to courage  
exiles from delight  
live coiled in shells of loneliness   
until love leaves its high holy temple   
and comes into our sight   
to liberate us into life.   
  
Love arrives   
and in its train come ecstasies   
old memories of pleasure   
ancient histories of pain.   
Yet if we are bold,   
love strikes away the chains of fear   
from our souls.   
  
We are weaned from our timidity   
In the flush of love's light   
we dare be brave   
And suddenly we see   
that love costs all we are   
and will ever be.   
Yet it is only love   
which sets us free.

~ Maya Angelou

~~*

Chapter Five: Illusive Nightfall

Hermione looked across the table in annoyance as Ron who was aiming for Seamus beside her hit her on the temple with a spoonful of mashed potatoes. She glared at the red head who was having a lot of trouble forcing himself not to let out a grin. 

Hermione impatiently wiped off the mass of sticky potatoes that stuck to her hair. "I don't see what is so amusing…" she said in annoyance as she eyed Ron who broke out in a laugh. Harry beside him was struggling with himself as well as he suppressed a giggle.

Ron muffled an apology out of his laughter, which made Hermione not the least bit in the mood to forgive him. 

Just then, Professor Mc Gonagall clinked her glass with a spoon as she tried to get the attention of the students. As the great hall grew quiet, the headmaster stood up from his seat ready to make an announcement.

"As you all know, our sixth year students are leaving for France a week from now," he started. The many students of the great hall kept the respectful silence as the headmaster continued to speak. "And I am delighted to know, that their trip to the foreign country will be undoubtedly fruitful, and enjoyable…" The headmaster's blue eyes twinkled slightly as he turned to the Gryffindor table. Purposely eying the infamous trio. "And hopefully,"

Harry recognized the Professor's mischievous smile. "Filled with wonderful adventures…" 

The headmaster's gaze slowly drifted to the Slytherins who were surprised to ever be silently acknowledged in a way. Draco winced as he caught Dumbledore staring directly at him. 

"So that it may teach you intermediate students, so many, valuable lessons," he finished clearly meaning something so curiously unsaid.

Mc Gonagall stood beside him and raised her glass. "A toast, for the fruitful results of this project," 

The students simultaneously raised their glasses at her gesture and drank.

Hermione smiled at Harry, she was almost sure that the trip was going to be far more interesting than any of them ever expected. Harry, who caught his friend's warm gesture, unexpectedly blushed and returned the smile.

As the hall of students resumed their dinner, Hermione pushed her plate aside and decided that she would not eat any more that night. She planed to make another trip to the library that night as she remembered all the work she had not been able to accomplish the two nights before. 

But as the faint memory of that night at the library came beck to her, she felt a wavering pang of emotion run through her spine as the vivid reminiscence of that night flashed before her eyes.

Strangely, she wanted to recall that guilty feeling as she stood pressed against Malfoy and she, although she would never bring herself to admit it, enjoyed every second of it. 

She remembered the way in which she had attempted to leave his arms, wondering for a moment why he didn't push he away. She tried to move away, but she didn't. Maybe because; his touch felt so inexplicably right.

Almost automatically, her gaze darted towards the Slytherin table in search of the familiar blonde hair that caught attention almost instanly. She found him sitting at the edge of the long table almost like a king. He was evidently in deep conversation with Malcolm Baddock who sat beside him. Hermione curiously wondered what they were talking about as she observed the straight expression on his face. She took a moment to wonder, what was it with this serious and secretive boy that suddenly intrigued her interests. Surely she could not have developed the slightest inclination to him these past few days. Could she?

_No! _Thought Hermione strongly as she turned away from the Slytherin table. Never in a million years could she ever feel the slightest proclivity to someone like him who hated her as much as she hated him. Possibly more. If there was anything that he made her feel now, it was confusion. 

Something that told her that no matter what she did, she would never be able to understand him, no matter what she did. Not that she wanted to…

Hermione suddenly pushed her chair away from the table and stood up.

"Leaving already Hermione?" asked Ginny who sat beside her.

Hermione nodded and started to walk out of the Great Hall. But halfway to the door, she found that she could not resist looking back. She did, and she saw that _he_ had looked up at her almost simultaneously, meeting her gaze equally. 

Even from that far a distance, she could perceive the glinting silver orbs that clashed with her own hazel eyes. She was surprised to see that his face was devoid of all the scorn and derision it often held. Instead Malfoy looked at her with that plain curiosity he looked so strange in.

Suddenly, as if he realized what he had been carelessly doing, his eyes hardened once again and sent a savage glare in her general direction. 

Hermione shrugged as she continued to walk out of the hall.

~

Draco turned back to his food as Granger left the hall. He didn't know why he took the trouble of noticing her actions then, but shrugged as he decided to let the thought go.

He found he couldn't as the memory of the other night plagued him at that moment. Their momentous instant of relief had turned in to so much more. It was something as incomprehensible as sunshine on a rainy day.

But he hadn't wanted it to turn in to something more, because it had to do with her, a lowly mudblood. She was someone out of his league, not to mention out of his reach.

At first he had become shocked at himself as he touched her hair that night. Stroking it as if it were something delicate and important. But then, all that he felt disappeared and he found that he could not push her away. Her comfort intrigued him, and perhaps, it comforted him as well.

The moment he realized that he had willingly touched her he had felt curiously pleasured, as if she had been there to serve that purpose for him. 

But no, she had not. She would never be able to see him as anything. And she would never be anything more than a stranger in his life. He forced himself to remember that she was something far inferior to what he was, but strangely… It didn't matter. 

The fact that someone like her could ever attract his attention surprised him. No matter how he restrained himself to think about it, he knew she had made a difference in him. Because she was different, interestingly different from any girl he'd ever met.

But that didn't cover up for the hate he felt for her now. It was greatest at that point; because she could do something no other woman could ever dream to do. She had made him sense something. Something he refused to recognize as emotion.

And for someone like him, that was unacceptable. He was suddenly overcome with a desire to hurt her, to make her feel how he felt, the confusion that he felt when he saw her.

But then, he thought. Maybe she felt it as well. Possibly more than he did.

~~*

Hermione pushed a strand of brown hair behind her ear as she sat in the Gryffindor common room wondering when Ron would quit at rambling on about the article in the Quidditch Weekly about Harry that said he was currently considering to play for the Quidditch League, which wasn't true of course. All of them knew that Harry had uncertain of his future as they all were of theirs.  

"Alright, Alright Ron, I've heard quite enough," said Ginny from behind Hermione who seemed just at irritated at him as she was.

Hermione turned around and sent Ginny a smile of relief.

"Hmm, I'm surprised you two are even listening," he said as he caught the expression on the two girls. Ginny beamed at Hermione.

Harry grinned at the three of them as he pulled out an envelope out of his robe pocket. 

"What's that Harry?" asked Ron. Amusingly, his perceptiveness never seemed to fail him.

Harry took out a folded piece of parchment from the envelope.

"It's a letter from Lupin," he said.

Hermione sat up apprehensively as she showed interest in what the letter said. She remembered when Harry last wrote to Lupin and that was a few weeks ago and wondered why it had taken him until then to reply.

"Well then, don't keep us waiting Harry. What does it say?" said Ron, voicing Hermione's anxiousness. 

"Well, Lupin is fine as he says. He also says he would want to meet with us soon," said Harry

"Where?" asked Hermione. "Surely not anytime this week, well be off to France in a few days," 

Harry shook his head slightly. "No, he plans to meet us in Carrouges, one of the closest towns to Avaloires,"

"How delightful! We'll have a fun time, I'm sure," said Hermione in excitement.

"But how will we be able to get out of Brentenoux? Is he sure that we are allowed out of the castle grounds?" asked Ron

Harry nodded, "He is positive. He says that during the first week of the trip, we will be allowed to leave the castle grounds and go as far as Avaloires' surrounding towns,"

"How did he know that?" Ron asked again.

Harry looked at them with a slightly confused expression. "I'm not sure, he say's he has a friend in Brentenoux. Also says that we'll be surprised to come across an old friend, he puts his emphasis on you Ron,"

Ron looked bewildered, "Me?" he asked pointing at himself.

Hermione smiled at him. "I wonder who it could be? Do you know Harry?"

Harry mused. "I have absolutely no idea,"

~~*

Opening a leather bound book, Draco sat quietly in his favourite study area of the library. It was almost empty, as the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff went on outside. 

Even in the silence of the library, the cheers and shouts of the students out on the Quidditch pitch could be heard.

Draco did not care to watch, because to him it was obvious who would be the victor. As if Hufflepuff ever stood a chance against Gryffindor. Draco's straight features suddenly gave a sick look as he realized that he was favouring the Gryffindor team. But even he had to admit that it was evidently true; they would beat Hufflepuff no matter what they would try. 

He shrugged, concluding that he was not about to favour any of the two teams. But that did not cover up for the fact that he actually did want Gryffindor to win the ongoing match outside, so that he could have his chance at beating Potter when Gryffindor and Slytherin were to move in to the final match. He closed his eyes and relished in the thought of showing Potter that he could outplay him. Finally showing the 'great' Harry Potter that he was not that high and almighty he thought himself to be.

Malfoy closed the book he had been nonchalantly scanning and rose from his seat. He did not want to leave yet, knowing that the Slytherin dungeon would be empty when he was to go there. 

Almost all of his housemates were out at the Quidditch match. He didn't even know why any of them bothered, they would be silent all throughout the game anyway, clearly expressing that they did not care who won or lost.

Walking casually though the empty isles of books he had moved over to the Magical Beasts section randomly taking out books he had read a hundred times before returning to his seat at the end of the room.

He opened each book and ran his eyes over the closely printed letters that covered their browning pages.

As a child, he had taken a liking to reading. And considering that the Malfoy libraries had an extensively wide collection of books and reading material, he could not find anything better to do but to spend his times in the book filled halls of the manor's libraries while passing the time.

Unlike most people who did this task to pass tests and find things they would ever hardly remember in the future, Draco in his curious nature read for the fun of it. And extraordinarily, all the facts he had ever come about, remained emblazoned in his mind. Not forgetting one single detail. 

There were few people who he knew would read for fun. Because reading, as a habit was branded as boring, and sometimes, even he thought of it as such. But the task was for him also enticing yet not quite an obsession like some people he knew. And one of them, was… Hermione Granger.

Draco cursed himself inwardly for thinking of Granger now, wondering why she crossed his thoughts so frequently now when she had been nothing to him for the past five years. He forced himself to think that she still didn't matter, convincing himself to believe that he only though of her that way because his revulsion had merely increased for her. 

Granger, Draco thought infuriatingly, was certainly the one person who could not fail to plague his mind although she was far from him. 

He remembered where she was now, and curiously, the thought of Hermione out in the warm autumn sun cheering gleefully for Harry Potter as he flew around the pitch recklessly flashed before his eyes. The mere thought sickened immensely.

Silently, he wondered how much difference it would make if anyone would ever support- no – believe in him the way Granger believed in Harry at every Quidditch match he had. He let his mind linger on the thought for a moment wondering if _she _was the one who made Harry's motivation grow even larger as he played every game and won it. He was almost sure that she had a habit of giving a motivational speech right before Gryffindor had a game and Potter and Weasley getting very sick of it. But her ratings evidently worked.

Draco's thoughts trailed back to a few days before, when he had insulted Hermione on the Quidditch Pitch. The way he hadn't failed to make the mudblood feel miserable. But it was another recollection that inundated his thoughts. He remembered how Harry had defended her so openly like it had meant something else. 

Had it?

Maybe it had.

Suddenly, his mind rang with his own words.

_'Oh, Potter, do my words sting you so? Are you harbouring some secret feeling's for Granger now?' _ 

Draco's features hardened as he remembered Potter's reaction. Which was so obvious, Harry had not retorted and had remained silent. That was one of the times that rarely happened when Harry Potter, Draco's one time rival had been without a word to say in front of him.   

It clearly meant something. 

Of course, thought Draco, a their years together had failed to immune Potter from his own emotions. Harry Potter, though perhaps he, himself did not want to admit it just yet, loved her…

It wasn't as if it wasn't bound to happen, after all even he had to admit that ever since the fourth year, he predicted that they would undoubtedly be an item. 

At his realization Draco forced himself to triumph. He had found something that was a weakness of the boy who lived. Something as childish as love.

Yet after a few moments of acknowledging this knowledge, strangely, he found that the smirk that was expected to touch his lips did not. He could not help but think that he disliked the idea of Harry ever liking Hermione in that way, even if the mere knowledge could possibly be used to his advantage.

Draco rose suddenly, determined to push the thought out of his mind. He walked out of the library unable to ignore the surge of anger that he felt for Potter at the thought of him together with Hermione. 

But he refused to think of anything he felt as envy. Because it was preposterous, not to mention impossible to ever think that a mudblood like her ever affected him in that way.

~~*

Hermione sat on her trunk trying to force it shut, as she seemed to have packed to many clothes, not to mention to many books which she had concluded she would not do without while at the Brentenoux Castle doing something as book-essential as researching. 

She forced to trunk lid down with her own weight as she practically humped the large trunk to close it.

"Oh come on, please close…" said Hermione rather despairingly. She had failed to notice the door of her room quietly open as Ginny entered.

Slightly bewildered at her friend, Ginny found it hard to clear her throat to get Hermione's attention. 

Hermione looked up at the doorway and felt her cheeks almost automatically turn red at the realization that Ginny had seen her in such an awkward position. Ginny laughed leisurely as she entered the room.

"What is in that thing anyway, the entire Hogwarts library?" she asked with a trace of sarcasm.

Hermione smiled as she got off the trunk and sat on her bed.

"I guess leaving a few books will help," she said relatively regretting the statement. Hermione turned to Ginny. 

"I agree wholeheartedly," she told her rather truthfully. Ginny took a seat on a couch that was against the wall beside the door.

"But what if we run short of information and… I leave all the right books and—" Hermione said in a frantic manner as she stood up and pulled open the trunk's cover.

Ginny shook her head at her friend in irony. "Hermione, your excursion to France is supposed to be an observation trip, a practical encounter with the creatures you are to study. All the paper work can be done here,"

Hermione mused, "Well, I think I can load off some books," she said as she pulled two large books out of the trunk. Ginny grinned at the satisfaction that she had miraculously given up to sacrificing books off her load. 

"The trip is in six days Hermione, you certainly have packed way before schedule," said Ginny.

Hermione smiled at the younger girl. "Well, I wouldn't want to be hurrying at the very last moment," she said simply. Hermione looked back in to her trunk, wondering what else she was to leave behind. A smile touched her lips as she spotted something she had been meaning to give to Ginny at the day of their departure.

But Hermione thought that then couldn't have been a more appropriate time to give it to her. As she glanced up at the younger girl who was still sitting peculiarly uneasily at on her couch, she felt a slight feeling that she was to tell her something.

"What is it Ginny?" she asked abandoning the yellow scarf in her trunk and joining the young red head on the couch. "Is there something bothering you,"

Ginny hesitated before speaking, wondering if Hermione would ever listen to her worries. But though her doubts plagued her mind she knew that the older girl would definitely hear her out.

She joined her hands together on her lap as she began to speak.

"It's strange but, I have a bad feeling about you going to France," she said.

Hermione smiled at her. "We'll be fine Ginny, all of us, your brother and Harry. We'll be back in Hogwarts before you know it," she said reassuringly.

Ginny shook her head, "No, Hermione you don't understand. I'm not saying this out of worry. It's you…" she said finally. 

"Me?" Hermione said in confusion. Her perplexed sentiment mingled with an emotion of worry, because she knew that when Ginny had a bad feeling; it was to be taken seriously. Even she did not know why. Perhaps her horrid experience in the Chamber of Secrets had affected her in a curious was that made her oddly susceptible to the dark arts. 

"Oh Hermione you have to promise to be careful while at the castle," said Ginny facing Hermione with utmost concern.

Hermione nodded "I will, don't worry," 

Ginny's eyes were downcast, as she nodded, evidently not the least bit at ease by Hermione's assurance. She knew, that though her friend would take the utmost care of her actions, she would not be able to elude the forthcoming distress.

She could not tell what it was, for if she knew she would say. Ginny could not help but think that she was disconcerting Hermione more by telling her of what she felt.

But then, it would prepare her for what would befall her at the French Castle.

"What is it?" Hermione asked suddenly, unable to let the subject be. Especially now that she knew that it concerned her.

"I don't know," she said simply "this feeling, has been worrying me ever since Ron told me about your project,"

Hermione mused, unable to hide the nervousness at her young friend's revelation. What could possibly be waiting for her at Brentenoux Castle? 

~~*

Relaxing against the green clad chair, Draco breathed in as he waited for her in his room. He sat before the clear mahogany desk as he mulled in silence.

As if on cue, his door opened and in came Blaise as she closed the door behind her and leaning against it as she breathed in evident relief.

"And how, may I ask did you shake her off this time?" asked Draco as he turned his chair around to face her breathless figure pressed against his door.

Blaise turned to Draco. The annoyance was still evident in her features. "I put a rat in her hair," she said sarcastically recalling Pansy's figure running around her room screaming at the highest pitch anyone had ever screamed at the realization that there was something squirming around in her hair.

Draco smirked as he imagined the scene himself. "Naughty, naughty my darling," he said as Blaise approached him. The red haired Slytherin sat herself on the leather couch on Draco's opposite. 

"Don't call me darling, it makes me sound old," she said in an uninterested tone.

Draco shrugged as he leaned back on his chair. He looked about the room in a way that annoyed Blaise. It seemed as if she wasn't in the room the way he acted.

"What did you want?" she asked calmly.

Draco still didn't look at her as he spoke.

"I wrote back," he said simply. 

She turned abruptly to him. "To your father?" she asked, already knowing what he meant.

Draco nodded silently. "W-what did you say?" she asked, not wanting to hear what he would answer her with. He chose that moment to look at her. His straight look confirmed her fears, but she still needed to hear it. She needed to hear that…

"I said yes," he told her.

Blaise could not stop her reaction as she pushed herself against the couch and closed her eyes.

For a moment, Draco regretted putting her in such discomfort. But he knew that she deserved it, because it was because of her that he chose to surrender to the will of his father, not knowing that _she_ would soon surrender to the will of hers.   

"Why?" she asked as if dreading the answer.

Draco looked away from her and turned his chair away from her direction. He was aware of her guilty state. 

Blaise turned to him. His back was to her; she didn't blame him for behaving that way in front of her. She closed her eyes again, but this time, she did something she had never done in her entire life. She let a lone tear roll down her face.

"Because of you…" said Draco in a far away voice that even sounded foreign to himself. He didn't know if he meant it, but it didn't matter now because he had already made his decision, no matter how strongly how felt against it. 

Blaise' eyes flew open as she took in his words. She knew now that the tears that came were unstoppable. 

She sobbed silently, even then Draco did not make an attempt to comfort her. But that was the way she wanted it; she didn't want him to. 

Draco sat there silently. He knew that she was crying, but he didn't approach her. She had never cried in her entire life, and he knew it, because it was the same thing with him.

"I hate myself," she said softly as she bowed her head slightly willing herself to stop crying.

Draco turned and looked back at her. He took a deep breath as he saw her despairing figure.

"Don't," he said coolly. She glanced at him almost automatically. "You have no room in your mind for much more of something you've known almost all your life,"

~~*

Hurrying up the stairs leading to the hall, she walked in aggravated steps towards the classroom she was headed to. Opting to make haste she moved quickly though the many corridors of the castle, which led to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. 

A few portraits had a few remarks for her hurried actions but she chose to ignore them as she drew closer to her destination.

Professor Figg had called her a few moments ago to her classroom saying it was urgent. On her way, she could not help but think about what she would have to say to her. 

Perhaps she would be assigned a new responsibility, she thought expectantly imagining what it was. It would definitely concern the excursion, as they were to leave in four days and it would be preposterous to bestow upon her a responsibility at the school when she was away in France. Hermione's anticipation over the matter led her to hurry even more at getting to the room.

She could almost taste the sense of authority she would feel when she was to be bestowed upon by another duty she would indubitably enjoy doing. 

~~*

Draco entered the classroom calmly surveying the room keenly. There was no one there of course, not that he expected there to be. 

The curtains were drawn back to reveal a bright sunny autumn day although that did not raise his smug mood. He moved towards the spiralling banister leading to the Professor's office at the balcony of the room.  Climbing the stairs up casually, he wondered for a moment what she would have to say to him.

Certainly it did not mean that he was in trouble – No, it did not, for he knew that he did not do any rule breaking in the last few days now did he?

Perhaps he was to be assigned a task. Oh, responsibility, how he hated it. Draco shrugged as he concluded that that was bound to be it.

Not bothering to knock, Draco entered Professor Figg's office silently. 

Peeping inside, he realized that there was no one there. _Great, _he thought as he entered the book filled room. 

The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was considerably big. It almost seemed like a library with all the shelves that stood against almost all four walls of the room naturally filled with books.

Draco walked towards the Professor's desk, which was stacked with many objects that seemed strange to him.

_Muggle. _ He thought almost automatically. His father had once told them that Professor Figg had lived fifteen years in the muggle world before she came to Hogwarts. Perhaps their strange customs and nature stuck to her somehow, he thought.

Moving over to the side of the desk, he observed a circular frame hung from an empty cage that was sited on the far end of the table. It seemed to be winded with the golden threads that provided it's color. The threads extended to the centre of the ornament and Draco thought that it resembled a spider web with several beads lining its design. A few lose braided strings with feathers on the ends were also hanging on the end of the circular adornment swinging in the gentle breeze that swept all throughout the room.

Draco opted to touch the strange ornament when he drew his hand away. No was he touching anything muggle. 

Just then, the door creaked open. Malfoy looked up wholly expecting to see the Professor in the doorway.

His gray eyes narrowed when he saw who had entered the room instead.

~

Hermione who had just stepped inside the Defense Against the Dark Arts office flinched as she realized who was in the room. 

She forced a hateful glare at him as she caught the maddened expression on his pale pointed face, clearly expressing his disinterest to see her.

"What are you doing here?" he said tonelessly.

Hermione almost shuddered when she heard his cold tone. All her pleasant memories of the night they had spent in the library seemed to slip away.

"I think I have the higher right to ask that question Malfoy," she told him matching his cold indifference. She took a few steps in to the room, refusing to stay at the doorway like some uninvited guest.

Draco rolled his eyes at her. "Don't take me as someone you can boss around Granger,"

Hermione looked away wondering why she ever thought that Draco Malfoy could participate in a civilized conversation.

"If you have to know, I've been called here. And you?" she asked turning back to him.

Draco shrugged as he moved away from the table proceeding to look at the shelves that held more trinkets.

"Well, I've been called here as well," he admitted squarely. His back was to her as he took up a figurine of a silver dragon that rubbed his long tail against Draco's palm affectionately. Draco smirked at the sight; he obviously could not hide his interest in the marvellous creatures. 

Hermione turned towards the large desk before her as she caught sight of the dream catcher hanging on one of the cages positioned at the side of the desk. She wondered what such an item was doing hanging somewhere else other than the top of one's bed.

As if sensing her actions, Draco turned around seeing her observing the curious object he had been looking at earlier.

"What is that anyway?" he asked her casually.

Hermione looked up all of a sudden, startled that he addressed her so unexpectedly. 

Hermione looked back at the ornament.

"It's a dream catcher," she said stoutly.

"A dream what?" asked Draco seemingly interested.

"A dream catcher, It does what it is. It catches bad dreams,"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "How is it supposed to do that?"

Hermione turned to him, slightly marvelling at his interest. "It's supposed to be hung over one's bed. And so when they sleep, it catches nightmares," she told him.

Draco nodded; an odd feeling overcame his insides as he acknowledged her answer to his curious question. He shrugged; he must have sounded naïve to her asking her something that must be so common in the muggle world.

He suddenly realized that the dragon figurine he had picked up earlier still say cuddled up in his palm. It had apparently gone to sleep as he could see.

Hermione looked at the dragon as she also observed that Draco was holding something. She restrained herself from grinning as she thought that he found the small figure endearing.

"You like dragons?" she asked. The question seemed to pop out of nowhere.

He turned back to her putting the figurine on the shelf. 

"Quite fondly actually," he admitted heedlessly as he walked towards the professor's desk, absent-mindedly diminishing the distance between them.

"Typical," she said.

Draco raised an eyebrow once again. "What do you mean by that,"

Hermione pushed a lock of her behind her ear leisurely. Draco caught the gesture slightly unwillingly as he remembered his clandestine admiration for her hair. He could not ignore the fact that the rich brown color made her look warmly delicate. Draco shook his head slightly as he recognized his absurd thoughts once again.

"Your name… It means—"

"I know what it means Granger, I've spoken Latin ever since I was four," he snapped, cutting her off rudely. 

Hermione shrugged. "Oh, and let me guess, by now, you've mastered ten languages," she said sarcastically. She turned to look at his face and saw that his features were unfazed. She almost dropped her jaw in bewilderment.

"You mean—"

"Thirteen actually," he said. Hermione took a moment to recover herself as she tried to hide her shock. She could not believe that he knew twice as many languages as she did.

"Funny, and I thought you had trouble speaking English properly," she said. Remembering all the swear words she knew he was capable of uttering.

Draco glared at her as she bit her lip, she regretted saying that to him. Hermione shrugged silently as she turned away from him and started walk towards the other side of the desk looking at the paperweights positioned in series on the top of the table.

Draco turned looked at her meager figure walking away from him. He wondered when would be the time when she would willingly approach him without feeling any repulse towards him. At the thought, he scolded himself inwardly. That would also be the time when he were to kiss the dark lord's feet and admit that he had been lusting over him for the longest time. 

Hermione found herself utterly uncomfortable in the current position they were in. She did not want to admit it, but in Malfoy's presence, silence was a factor that augmented her uneasiness progressively more. She wondered what was taking the Professor the longest of times to get there, part of her wanting no longer to be along with Malfoy.

Yet, curiously, a part of her did not mind.

Draco tore his gaze away from the girl standing before him, forcing himself to remember how much hate he would actually feel towards her at a time like this one, when he found himself alone with her, and unable to do anything about it.

He perfunctorily started towards the colossal arched windows, which was behind the teacher's table as he was drawn to the slightly cloudy day outside. 

Slightly frightened by the air of wind that she lightly felt as he walked past her, she took a deep breath. Unexpectedly, she turned to face his figure standing by the window, looking outside. He was apparently, strangely entranced by the slightly gloomy weather. She took that moment look at him.

He was wearing black, as she hardly saw him in anything else. She thought that it fit him very well, his skin, which was the palest shade on a person, she had ever seen. However, there was of course, his father Lucius Malfoy.

Hermione shuddered at the thought of the older Malfoy, a man who gave you the dullest impression of himself when you met him. She could not help but think how similar Draco was to his own father. But then, she wondered, would Draco ever be the evil, malignant murderer that his father was?

Hermione sighed, as if regretting her conclusion. Most likely, she thought. 

Still, she knew that she doubted it so much. She could not help but think of the many times she had been allowed a peak in to his hidden personality, almost as if she believed that he could be different from what he seemed. The cold unfeeling boy that was he.

The distance between them was almost too close. Draco was aware that she was merely an arms reach away from him. He was unable to resist turning around and looking at her. He was almost surprised to find that she was looking at him. 

Hermione didn't bother to hide her surprise as he turned to her. Nor did she opt to move away from him.

She tried to take in what she could unmistakably see before her. It was there once again, as it had been when she had looked at him in the Transfiguration classroom; the pain that had grazed his features as if it was something natural. So much of it, so vividly expressed that she could have sworn to have felt it herself.

Hermione's breath caught in her throat as he started to approach her closing in the small distance that was between them. She looked up at him, meeting his steely gaze. Standing so close to him, she looked at him with curiosity, wondering why he could instantly render her breathless with his mere close presence. She cogitated if _she_ had an effect on _him_, but doubted it so.

Standing there breathing his intoxicating scent made her never want to pull away from that moment. Her mind felt like it was floating, an effect she had never felt before. 

She reached for the table behind her realizing that she could no longer hold herself up as weakness overcame her abruptly. She looked away from his face as she moved a bit backwards, leaning on the table.

Draco was overcome with a sense of loss as she dropped her eyes to look down. God knows why he did what he did next.

Almost instantaneously, he raised his hand to her chin lifting her face up renewing his view of her flushed features. Her eyes widened as he did this, probably in trepidation.

His eyes grazed over her face quietly admiring the hidden beauty, which he could now see. He wondered how someone like her could draw his admiration so easily when she was supposed to be one of the things he was brought up to hate and despise.

His fingertips lightly traced her jaw as it slowly ran up her smooth face. Her skin was so soft he could have sworn it compared to his. And even more overwhelming was the warmth it possessed; such warmth that seemingly passed on to his cold hand when he touched her.

Hermione shuddered as Draco ran his fingers on the side of her face. His skin was strangely cold, like he was dead. But the sensations she felt when his fingertips grazed her skin was an indication to her that he was very much alive. 

As he got higher, he transferred his touch, from her skin on to a lock of her hair, stroking it tenderly. He remembered the night in the library when he had touched her hair, first discovering the soft, pleasurable feel of it.

A deep blush had begun to appear on the tops of her cheeks as she realized as she met his eyes once more. She looked at the steely pools of silver as they looked at her now, irrefutably tinged with so much emotion she never thought him capable of ever feeling. A voice in her mind told her to forget everything at that moment and surrender to the pleasure she indisputably felt at that moment. 

Hermione's mind spun, wanting that moment to go on and on until the end of time.

"Ehhrm," said someone from the doorway. To Hermione, it sounded as distant as someone clearing her throat a thousand miles from where they were.

Draco however didn't think the same as he sprang away from Hermione as if he had been burned. 

The both of them looked at Professor Figg in shock.

"I think this meeting can proceed accordingly now," she said trying to hide her amusement at seeing the both of them in that unusual situation. Unfortunately, a slight smirk already touched her features.

Hermione's voice caught in her throat as she realized the jeopardy of the situation. A teacher had seen them, a teacher. Not to mention a teacher in one of the highest-ranking positions in their school. Visions of her being the talk of the faculty almost made her faint.

Draco however kept his face straight as if nothing had happened. But Professor Figg could perceive his lips twitching slightly as she observed him trying to control himself. He took a slight step away from Hermione as the Professor approached them.

She cleared her throat before motioning to the seats in front of her desk. Hermione turned stiffly to the brown leather clad seats and walked towards one to take a seat. Her hands weakly gripped the armrests as they trembled violently.

Draco taking a slow breath followed suit and sat down on another chair, clearly making sure that he sat as far away from Hermione as possible.

The Professor was aware of their awkwardness under the circumstances and chose to not press on the subject further, she jumped right at the topic she was meaning to discuss with the both of them.

"Well, I am sure that the both of you are aware of the forthcoming trip to France,"

The both of them nodded weakly as the professor smiled.

"Then I shall cut right to the chase," she started "you see, as much as we members of the faculty would like to accompany you students for the entire month stay at Brentenoux, we could not also abandon our duty to the Hogwarts students which will remain here,"

Hermione nodded as the Professor spoke, she had a hidden sinking feeling that she already knew why she was called there. 

"Thus we are not able to guarantee that our supervision over the batch of your year shall not be in our hands at all times. This is why I have asked you both here," Professor Figg took a breath.

"Are you aware that the both of you are the highest ranking prefects of your year?" she asked.

Hermione nodded weakly as she looked at Draco who had a straight look on his face. She had concluded that he was not indeed aware of the fact. She looked away from him as she turned back to the Professor.

"Then discern it now Mr. Malfoy, for you are as you know the sixth year salutatorian and therefore second in this rank," 

Draco shrugged silently showing slight discontent for being emphasized as merely second best, next to Hermione, a mudblood.

"Anyway, as I have said my fellow Professors and I shall not be around Brentenoux Castle at all times during your trip there, so I have to impose the authority of the higher students over your schoolmates," Hermione's face lit up unexpectedly. "In other words, the both of you shall take charge of your class when we will be out of the premises,"

"But Professor," said Hermione in a shrill voice that irritated Draco. "How about our research work?"

"Yes, yes of course you shall have time to do all that. I am not giving you full responsibility of running the castle, you can be sure of that. The Brentenoux castle, of course like any other institution will have numerous personnel that will assist all of you during your stay at the castle. I have placed you in the same group by the request of the headmaster so that communication between the both of you will be easy,"

Hermione sighed, no wonder the Professor had flatly refused regrouping in her case.

Draco who had been silent for the past few minutes chose that moment to speak. "Then what are we to do exactly Professor?" he asked nonchalantly.

Hermione forced herself not to look in his direction.

"Of course I shall assign the both of you a few tasks and measures as to handle your fellow students, but mainly I shall clarify now that the safety of the students will be your primary concern. Especially now that Professor Dumbledore has insisted that permission to exit the castle premises be granted," she shook her head slowly at the mention of this, clearly showing her disapproval. "To tour the country side of course, and not so anything else," she added primly.

"At what times will you be in the castle premises Professor?" asked Hermione.

"Occasionally, do not worry Ms. Granger. Though in case of an emergency, we shall keep in touch with you. Do not hesitate to call any of us in that case," 

Hermione nodded. "Do insist for the other Prefects to aid you if this be needed," continued Professor Figg who started to lean back on her chair to ease the slight strain she felt on her back.

"And another thing," she said. Hermione leaned forward to hear her better. "This is one of the things I insist you impose"

"And that would be?" asked Draco.

"Never, ever, allow a student to exit the Brentenoux castle grounds after midnight," her words were emphasized. "No exemptions not even prefects. Not even the both of you," 

Draco raised an eyebrow at her, "Is there any special reason why not Professor?"

The Professor looked at Draco warningly as she detected his strong sense of adventure. "I shall not want to sound superstitious so I shall not continue. However, Mr. Malfoy, you are forewarned because I do mean it. Many things go on at Brentenoux after midnight that are even too strange even for the magical society to comprehend," she said in a caveat tone. Hermione could not help but be afraid of the Professor's warning. 

Draco could not hide his curiosity this time as he wondered what she meant. 

The Professor regained her cheery nature after saying the warning. She then smiled at the both of them as she prepared to end the meeting. Her smile widened as she realized the distance between the both of them, remembering the situation in which she had found them in when she entered her office. 

"I don't think I have to ask you to get along, surely you both are already aware that if you don't get over this rivalry, you shall not succeed in performing an exceptionally excellent job at your duties. Do you promise to straighten out your _issues_ on your own?" she asked.

Hermione looked insulted as she stared at the Professor. She muffled a reply as the professor grinned in satisfaction.

Malfoy did not look as happy to hear that either as he muttered illegibly about incompetent 

mudbloods. Hermione glared at him as she heard him use that infuriating term with her again.

The Professor sighed; _this is hopeless, _she thought as she dismissed the two students.

~~* 

"Issues, issues," muttered Hermione angrily as she strode down the hallway with Ron and Ginny "She thinks I have _issues_!" she practically screeched.

Ron jumped at her sudden outburst as Ginny looked at her in bewilderment.

"What is wrong with you?" asked Ron as he steered the two girls to the right as they took a turn from the previous landing they just passed through.

"Yes Hermione, you haven't spoken a word about why Professor Figg called you to her office," said Ginny rather worriedly. Ron nodded.

Hermione took a breath before answering them. "Apparently, I have been assigned the boss of you all when we get to France. She asked me to take on the responsibility of managing all of us while we are on the research trip,"

Ginny looked at her, perplexed." I don't see what is wrong about it,"

"Yeah, you love responsibility," he said with ephemeral interest. 

Hermione shrugged. "But I have to share that responsibility," Ron looked at Hermione having the slight impression that she was a spoiled brat.

"Don't you think that's rather selfish of you?" asked Ginny. " I mean, you have too much on your back already—" Ron looked completely agreed with his sister as Hermione took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"I have to share it with Malfoy," she said finally. Her words made a direct impact on Ron; the tall read head stopped in his tracks and stared at her in bewilderment. 

"M-Malfoy? But… why?" he asked. Ginny looked almost as anxious as Ron to hear Hermione's reply.

"In case you haven't noticed Ron, Malfoy is the second highest ranking student in the sixth year, and apparently also the second highest ranking student official in our year," she said matter-of-factly.

"Well, that doesn't cover up for the fact that he is a git and shouldn't be deserving of anything that prestigious," said Ron. "I mean it isn't bad enough that he's in your research group,"

Hermione sighed, "Thank you Ron, for reminding me of that discomforting fact, now I shall go on with my day with utter happiness and joy in my heart," she said sarcastically.

Ron looked at her sympathetically. "Wait 'til Harry hears, he's going to want to shred Malfoy's –"

Ginny cut off her brother unexpectedly, "Spare me the bad, bad thoughts Ron," she told him. Hermione nodded.

"Well, all the same he's going to be steamed," said Ron. Hermione looked at him wondering why Harry would ever react in that sort of way, when she thought Ron had the hotter temper of the both of them. Ginny must have thought the same way as her face straightened in a contemplating manner.

"And you won't tell him just yet unless the time comes to it," said Hermione.

"Why would I want to lessen his lifetime by doing that?" asked Ron almost innocently. Hermione almost smirked at this."

"Because you're his best friend you git!" she said. Ron grinned at her and twisted his fingers in the air making a scouts sign.

"Wizard scout's honor," he said mimicking the muggle children he had seen during a trip to Kingston with his parents as a child.

~~*

Making sure that the coast was clear, Harry motioned for Hermione and Ron to hurry on across the landing just after one of the ghouls had passed the doors of the great hall and had disappeared in to the stairs leading to the Slytherin dungeons. With the invisibility cloak in Harry's hand the three of them moved along the lawn of the Hogwarts castle gingerly. They were now all too big to all fit in the invisibility cloak which is why they would not all wear it at the same time. 

That was why sneaking out after hours became a risky task if the three of them were to all go.

The trio broke in to a run, as the lamplight by the door of Hagrid's hut grew more distinct in the gloom. When they reached the front of the cabin, Harry rapped on the door casually as Hermione turned back to the school to see if anyone had seen them. 

Almost suddenly, Hagrid had flung the door open. Hermione couldn't help stifle a giggle as she saw that Hagrid was wearing a flower themed apron, which seemed ten sizes too small for him.

"Oh," he said looking down at the trio. "Well, what'er you doin' standin around ther fer? Get in, get in," he said as he moved out of the way for the three of them to pass. The trio stepped inside casually as Hagrid moved over to the oven by the tables and brought out a large fruitcake and placed it on the table before the trio. They sat down casually by the table.

Hermione tried to put on a cheery smile at the sight of the half burnt pastry but found that she could not hide her discomfiture at soon being fed something like that. Ron seemed to agree with her as he wrinkled his nose at the scent of scalded dough.

"Um, Er, smells good Hagrid," said Harry awkwardly trying to give the giant some credit. Ron and Hermione glanced at him in astonishment and Hagrid seemed to notice this.

"Well, ye' don' hav ta eat it, this oven's bin' giving me trouble lately. Can' seem ter cook at the righ' temprature'," he said.

The trio took a breath of relief as Hagrid put away the burnt cake and placed it on the floor for Fang to eat. The bloodhound that peculiarly liked it started biting in to the pastry without hesitation.

Ron observed this, and gave a sick look. 

Hagrid started pouring them tea from the kettle and offered each of them a cup.

"So, what did you ask us here for?" asked Harry who took up his cup of tea and started sipping it gradually.

"Well, remember tha' surprise I told ye all about three weeks ago?" he asked them. The three of them nodded accordingly. "Well, ther's bin a problem,"

"What do you mean Hagrid?" asked Hermione as she took a gulp of her tea.

"Yeh mus' be won'drin why I haven' shown yeh anything in class recently," 

"Well, yes, I did wonder about that for quite some time," said Hermione. "What's the problem?"

"I mean even Dumbledore disapproves of it," he told them.

Harry leaned forward in anxiousness.

"What exactly is 'it' Hargid?" he asked. Ron and Hermione looked like they shared Harry's anxiousness.

"Come over 'ere, I'll show yeh," said Hagrid as he stood up and turned to walk out of the back door. The three glanced at each other in curiosity as they laid down their teacups on the table and followed Hagrid out the small hut. 

With a small oil lamp in hand, Hagrid led the trio out in to the yard where he kept various magical creatures for his classes. But farther along the yard, the trio could see that there was something new about the whole scene, there at the edge of the yard, was what looked like a small shed. Harry thought that it must have been built as a makeshift stable.

His curiosity grew even more as Hagrid led the three of them directly in the direction of the new addition to the yard.

Reaching the spot across the yard, Hagrid placed the lamp on the ground as she started to remove the many wooden boards that were put in place in front of the shed's door presumably to keep what ever was in there from getting out. 

The trio stood by him in anticipation. 

By the time the last board came off the door, Hagrid took up his lamp again and bended to allow himself in, as the same time; motioning the trio to enter after him.

Hagrid hung the lamp in one of the nails that was hammered loosely on the door as the only lighting in the cramped room. 

Harry went in the room first any by the time Ron entered; Hermione heard a strange loud neigh that seemed to have come from inside of the shed. She did not hesitate to hurry inside to see what had made the strange noise.

What met her eyes made her gasp in awe. What looked like a gray horse that had (as she could see) eight legs with a white mane flowing smoothly down its back was standing behind a half boarded stable nudging Hagrid's hand affectionately. Hermione had never seen anything quite like it; she could not even recall anything even resembling this creature in any of the books she had ever read.

"What is it?" asked Ron voicing Hermione's unasked question. The creature had definitely sensed their presences and was now loudly neighing showing insecurity. Hagrid immediately started stroking the horse's mane to quiet it down.

"It's called a Sleipnir," said Hagrid. "These creatures can run faster than the wind I shoul' recon,"

"I can see that," said Harry eying the steed's multiple limbs.

"Eight legs in all," he stated "Yeh' shoul' see them run. You wouldn' find a be'er transport if yer' in eh hurry," Hagrid grabbed a brush hanging from one side of the stable and started brush the Sleipnir's silvery locks.

"Woul' yeh like a try Harry?" he asked as he handed Harry the brush who accepted it gratefully. The Sleipnir made a slow neigh as it set its black eyes at Harry who hesitated before attempting to touch it again.

"Don' be 'fraid Harry, it won' hurt yeh," Hagrid said encouragingly as the Sleipnir started to feel comfortable with Harry. "Ther, thas a good one,"

Hermione stepped forward in an attempt to get a better view of the creature.

"Uhm, Hagrid," she started. "Why doesn't Professor Dumbledore approve of this creature, I mean, it seems harmless,"

"Well, thas' wha' I told em, but he thought it would be too dangerous fer a whole class to have it,"

Ron looked at them, perplexed. "We had Buckbeak didn't we? Surely this couldn't be worse than him,"

Hagrid put on a confounded expression.  "Dumbledore's word is something I take fer advice Ron, and I don't think I'll take the risk… again,"

Hermione grinned, remembering all the times Hagrid had brought illegal animals in to the school, insisting that they were harmless when they were actually fatal. Perhaps the Sleipnir was no different to all those incidents, and it was right for him to be cautious. 

"I recon you ought ta see Maxine firs' before I send her away," he told the three of them, and with that Ron let out a loud cough.

"M-Maxime… It's a girl?!" he asked in bafflement. Hermione and Harry shared the same shocked expressions as they looked at Hagrid.

"But Hagrid, you've never brought in a female creature here before," said Harry.

"She was the only one available and I though' I'd name her after _her," _he said.

Hermione giggled. "You don't mean Madame Maxime from Beauxbattons now do you?" she asked grinning from ear to ear.

Hagrid smiled sheepishly. 

"I'll take that for a yes?" said Ron as the trio laughed in delight.

~~*

Sitting quietly on the chair he had been asked to sit on, Draco breathed in slowly trying to control his frustration. 

Snape watched the young boy before him gingerly; aware of the discomfort the discussion of the matter at hand had caused him. But as he began to seem more like himself and had instigated to regain control of his senses, Snape addressed him again.

"Your father is not pleased Draco,"

Draco shrugged. "Never, never in his life had he been pleased with me and now is not the exception," he stated as the Professor nosed in reply, showing disapproval of his frankness. 

"So shall I come up with the much needed excuse, or shall I leave that up to you Professor?" he asked sarcastically taking a glass paperweight up from the Professor's desk and examining it unflappably. 

Snape sighed. "Lucius will not be fooled any longer Draco, and you must make your decision," he told the younger boy impatiently. 

Draco looked back at the Professor blankly, "I have made my decision," he stated. Snape felt a shock of fear run though his body as Draco spoke those five crucial words. He almost regretted asking the next question like he did.

"And what is your decision Draco?"  Snape tried desperately to keep his tone from faltering. 

Draco looked away from him as a distant look fell upon his features. The tension in Snape's nerves grew increasingly as Draco had kept silent for a moment.

"I have … accepted," Draco stated finally as he placed the glass figure back on the desk, not even minding to look at Snape.

The Potions Master's face grew a deathly shade of white as he took this in. It took everything in him to finally speak after a moment of awkward silence.

"Then, why the excuse?" he asked Draco.

The young Malfoy smirked. "I have accepted my father's proposal but it does not mean that I trust him entirely," he drawled. "I wrote to him with impossible confidences that for once he would give me time,"

"Your father is rather impatient Draco," said Snape looking at Draco with something that could only be read as concern.

"Impatient!?" said Draco in mock surprise, "Do you think you think that you are underestimating my father's temper,"

"Alright, Lucius is blatantly inconsiderate," said Snape said sarcastically.  

Draco did not need to nod to show his agreement for it was plastered all over his face. The professor frowned at him suddenly knowing why Lucius Malfoy was positively intolerant with his own son's acid sense of humour.

"Is there something else you would like to know, Professor?" asked Draco in a drawling tone. 

Snape glanced at him curiously, and then shook his head. The young boy gathered himself up and stood up leaving the cold Potions classroom.

The Potions Master looked at Draco's retreating figure from the room having a sinking feeling that all hope that he had in Draco refusing his father's wishes for him had disappeared. Then he shook his head, choosing not to think negatively. The young Malfoy was much too mysterious to be that predictable, and many things could indeed happen in a matter of months. 

Remembering the wretched work that awaited him in his office, Snape turned from the classroom and walked in to the room behind him.

~~*

Hermione drew in a breath as she walked out of the library, somewhat relieved that their group study lesson had finished early. In fact, almost all the paper work had been done with and all their group needed was the observation reports they would get to do when they got to Orne. Padma had helped her with the completion of the main essay that afternoon she and Seamus had almost accomplished the compilation of their reports. 

She sighed knowingly, she was almost sure that this project would be a success. All because of her hard work and her group mate's dedication to the activity… and not to mention Malfoy's resources. 

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment at a realization. Malfoy had not attended the meeting. 

For a moment, she wondered what would keep him from it, but then it dawned on her. For the past two days, he must have gone out of his way just to avoid her. Hermione mused remembering the last time she had seen him, which was two days ago in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Her eyes flew open at that fleeting moment, as a bombardment of memories she had forced out of her mind for that past few days fell on her unexpectedly.

Gingerly, she continued walking down the hall as she realized that she couldn't repeat the task of forcing to forget that moment for the second time. Once more, her mind raced with the greatest confusion as she remembered that instant in Professor Figg's office when she had been swept with the utmost emotion she had never even imagined herself feeling.

She shook her head vigorously as visions of him returned to her mind, trying to ward off the feelings of confusion and uncertainty that the memory plagued her with. However, she had never succeeded at trying not to think of him when realization dawned on her. Then was not an exception. 

He had touched her, she remembered suddenly as her had involuntarily went up to touch her cheek, tracing the path of his fingers as best as she could remember it. The recollection of the pleasure that his touch provided her was extolled in her mind, like a part of her never wanted to forget it. She could not believe that his cold touch had caused so many eerie sensations to run up her spine. She almost admitted to liking his presence, especially when they were alone… But there was a key word to that statement…

Almost.

She stopped as she drew her hand away from her face. She chose to think that it had meant nothing, and it never will. 

Because he was Malfoy, someone she hated, and someone who hated her equally as much. And appeasement would never be possible between them, and so would anything more that that. It would be wrong, for never in her life had she known such a greater rival than him. And the knowledge that her mere thoughts betrayed everything she had been raised to believe in aroused a feeling in her that surpassed the undeniably preposterous enticement, which she felt for Draco Malfoy. 

Guilt.

It was something she hadn't felt in ages, mainly because she had not reason to even think of it. But that was until he came along.

Yet, even so, time had taught her too much and through all the confusion she so unbearably felt, she knew that one thing was clear in her mind.

She could never live with guilt.

~~*

Ginny entered the Gryffindor common room hassling as she caught the sight of Hermione heading crossing the hallway leading to the Gryffindor tower. 

She burst in to the common room arising everybody's attention.

"She's coming!" she hissed in excitement as the effect of those simple words was seen instantly. Everybody who had been up on the chairs putting the last final changes to the decorations of the room had hurried in to their hiding places and kept quiet.

Ginny quickly moved over to the couches beside Ron and Harry who also, could not hide their anticipation at surprising their friend.

~

Hermione walked in to the common room leisurely as the fat lady let her in. She wondered for a moment what the knowing smile the portrait had sent her meant as she moved in to the room.

But that thought was pushed out of her mind when she turned to look at the room she had entered. An astounding sight had met her eyes. The Gryffindor Common room was decorated beautifully, the walls were draped with blue and gold and the floating lanterns had lit the hall causing it to be brighter than usual.

Yet that wasn't what caught her eye. In the center of the room where a huge table was set instead of the usual couches, which was now arranged at the sides of the room, was a huge three layered cake topped with what she could see as… sixteen candles.

The table was surrounded with many gifts of many sizes. And above it, was something that made her gasp with joy. A banner that read, 'Happy Birthday Hermione' hung across the arched ceiling of the Gryffindor Common Room.

"Surprise!" came a shout from the many people who revealed themselves one by one. Hermione let out a big smile as her housemates started to greet her. It was when Ron and Harry moved towards her when she was able to speak.

"I shouldn't have doubted you to make this day the best birthday of my life," she said as she hugged Ron and Harry with overflowing gratitude.

"And don't we know it," said Ron as he led Hermione to the cake sitting on the table in the middle of the room. She looked at him as he grinned at Harry who couldn't help but laugh. The entire sixth year population gathered around her as she stood before the birthday cake.

"Aren't I to old for this?" she asked, refusing to be chanted with a happy birthday song.  

Harry grinned at her. "Hermione, you're never too old for anything," he said with a laugh.

~~*

Draco sat quietly on the leather couch in his chambers, doing his contemplating rituals as he had nothing better to do. Their classes were cancelled as they were expected to make ready for the forthcoming excursion they were to go in two days. And he had finished his packing really, not that he chose to pack everything he had in possession.

Possession…

Such a powerful word that meant two different things. One was ownership… and the other… control. Control was one thing he wanted of ever since he was a child. Something his father had taught him, but still to him, it was still a vital part of his existence. He had attained it, but not to the fullest. And now that his father had actually succeeded in persuading him of becoming a servant of the dark lord, he would be forced to give it up… or would he?

When Draco was a child, Lucius had told him of how special he had thought Draco was. Not that Draco thought that any of his father's praises had actually meant anything seriously. Draco had heard praised when he was a child, and like the Malfoy that he was, he enjoyed it. So much that he craved for more. Yet, as he grew older, and as he achieved more and more; his father's praise had been more scarce, as if Lucius had only raised Draco's hopes up to no avail.

But he learned easily, and he grew up convincing himself that Lucius' approbation of him was not something that he was willing to sacrifice a lot to attain. He worked, considerably hard to please not his father, nor his friends, not even the Dark Lord… but no one else, but himself.

Unexpectedly, he had reached the height of his hopes and expectations. Of the years he had spent at Hogwarts, he had gained much; he had attained something he had always wanted from everyone around him. Respect; the superiority in which he had held himself over the years. 

But it wasn't enough because he had failed in one thing he had set his mind in doing. And that was to be the best. 

That ultimate goal was shattered, by the one person who he had positioned as his archrival ever since his first year. The renowned, hero of the wizarding world… Harry Potter. 

Draco had concentrated his loathe on Potter for ever since he had so stupidly refused his friendship. Of course, Draco didn't think that Potter's decision was that stupid anymore. Not that he would admit it. 

He wondered that _if_ Harry had indeed done so, would he even care to show the slightest concern for him now that he was top of the Dark Lord's list for future 'followers' to be. Draco sighed, perhaps being the dependable friend Harry Potter was, slight concern wouldn't be his sentiments towards the matter.

Draco shook his head, the last thing he would want to feel now was…

No! He couldn't feel it. It was preposterous for a Malfoy to ever feel the fraudulent feeling of regret. Not now, now, that Harry was looked upon as a better person than he was. The one thing that he was determined to keep was his pride. For he knew, that there were many things that Harry had failed in beating him in at. And one of them was academics…

Draco had worked himself up to one top spots in their year when it came to grades. Apparently, the many Malfoy libraries had its uses. And let us not forget the stuck knowledge he always had being a pure blooded member of the wizarding community.

Yet ironically, there was but again one flaw in that fact. And that was where Harry Potter's partner in crime came in. It was none other that Hermione Granger, Hogwarts' top student.

Draco frowned at the thought of her. She was someone whom he had also purposely set his mind on hating for the past few years.

Because of her, his father had another reason to look down upon him. The thought of Draco being outstripped by a mere mudblood maddened Lucius gravely. 

And because of her, Draco had shamefully fallen in to the position of second best. Because of her… he wasn't even sure who he was anymore. 

Suddenly, the memory of that moment in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom returned to him. He had, in the span of forty-eight hours (like her, he imagined) succeeded in not letting his mind linger on such a disturbing thought. But that time was done with, and fragments of the memory came crashing down upon him like a wild typhoon. 

It had taken one glance from her big curious eyes for him to become intrigued by her. One glance, and he had known that he would fall into her bewitching spell that she had so unknowingly cursed upon him. The moment he had approached her, she had trembled.

He had felt her fear, yet he wondered for a moment what she thought at that moment. For she didn't move away, not an inch of distance was regained when he found himself so close to her. She looked away from him probably in fear and doubt of herself. But he had refused to let her tear her gaze away from him, because he had wanted so badly to do something he had found himself partially incapable of ever since he had known her. 

He wanted to read her, thought her eyes. He had wanted to find out her sentiments about that moment. So he touched her, raising her gaze back to his.

Nothing had ever left him more unprepared for what he saw.

Her eyes, invigorating hazel pools; looking at him with confidence. The fear in them, disappearing almost magically, as if it had never been there.  In its place, he had something he had least expected of her to feel in his arms. It was something so impossible, so unbelievably strange, something as vague yet comforting. 

Something he could only recognize as… faith. 

Draco suddenly found himself living in an impossible world. First he had thought— no, even worse, he had imagined Potter as his friend, and now… now he was spending his time thinking about Granger, in a way that had practically sent him halfway to admitting that he was attracted to her. Was he? 

Draco bowed his head as he ran his hand through his hair. He didn't know why, but denying everything he had thought about at that moment had felt so incredibly wrong. 

He suddenly wanted to take revenge on her, for rendering him so pathetic in the current state he was in. He felt confusion now as if it was a regularity, which it was never supposed to be. The pain of it that she had so inevitably caused him had stung so deeply in his chest that it felt as if he would never feel the end of it.

_Feel? _ Had she taught him how to feel as well? Draco shrugged. Maybe she did. Perhaps the false emotion, which he had been meaning to live on all his life, had failed to make him survive just a fourth of his lifetime. 

But he thought that would not be possible if he would not let her. Apparently, Granger could only have so little effect on him. After all, she was but a filthy mudblood that was not supposed to matter to him. 

Yet she had, in some twisted psychopathic manner she had succeeded in mattering to him, even in the slightest way. And he, he was merely too stubborn to admit that fact.

~~*  

"Oh Harry, Ron it's wonderful! Ginny! Did you pick this out?" said Hermione in excitement as Harry slipped on a beautifully made silver-sapphire ring on her finger as he took it out of it's blue velvet case that she had sworn to have seen before.

Ginny who sat in front of her was about to answer negativity when Ron put an arm around her and answered the question for her.

"Yes, it was her idea, couldn't have picked it out without her," he said winking at his sister who looked at him gratefully at the credit he had unexpectedly bestowed upon her. Of course she had never known that Harry and Ron planned on giving Hermione such a gift on her birthday, but she had indeed done a good job of keeping the secret ever since she had seen Ron bagging the box three weeks ago in the great hall and pressed him to tell her what it was.

"It's a beautiful gift," Hermione exclaimed as she held it up in the firelight of the hearth in the now messy Gryffindor Common Room. The sight of it after her surprise birthday party was disastrous, but she could not help but be overjoyed by the state of it now as she remembered the night that had gone by when almost all of the Gryffindors had joined in fun. It made Hermione overly elated to discover that so many people remembered her special day.

The trio, along with Ginny were now sitting by the hearth of the Gryffindor common room happily recalling the happenings of the night that had slowly been done with. 

"I don't know how you remembered when my birthday actually was! How 'did' you remember," asked Hermione.

Ron and Harry looked at each other and grinned. "Ginny!" they said in unison. Ron's younger sister blushed. "She'd remember any occasion as if there was a calendar implanted in her brain," joked Ron. Ginny frowned at him.

"I do not," she said firmly.

"Alright, when did Percy fall out the window when Hermes flew too soon while he was tying the chocolates for Penelope which was actually too heavy for her," asked Ron.

"July twenty first, two years before – hey!" huffed Ginny as the trio began to laugh.

"See, exactly my point," concluded Ron as he continued to laugh. Eventually, Ginny gave up to the moment and started to laugh as well. 

"Thank you Gin, for remembering," said Hermione "And thank you all, for this wonderful day,"

"Nothing to it Hermione," said Ron. "It was our pleasure,"

~~*

She grasped golden ropes of the curtains of the French doors as she started to leisurely step in to the balcony of her room. It had been a long night, but still, Hermione was not even sure if she wanted to go to sleep just yet.

Her bear feet clapped down on the stone floor of the balcony. She felt the coldness run almost instantly up her body.

Pulling the red cloak around her shoulders, she gazed up at the sky, which was devoid of any dark clouds. The moon shone brightly in a waning gibbous phase that lit the dark sky of the night illuminating even the far horizon that was seen at the end of the Forbidden forest. She had an exquisite view of the tall pines of the forest from her window, she could even see the lake which seemed to glimmer no matter what time of the day it was. 

Hermione fondly remembered the time she had actually _been in_ the lake, which was two years ago. She remembered how she had opened her eyes and spotted Viktor as the one who had saved her. She was grateful for his safe capture of her, but then she also had the disturbing feeling of wanting to see Harry when she opened her eyes. She had indeed had a small inclination towards Harry then. But it was only in their fifth year when she had gone down to admitting it, but only when she was sure that the childish sentiment was gone. 

Indeed that lake had been the venue of one of her unforgettable experiences, which that was. But then, she thought, she hadn't exactly visited the Hogwarts lake since her fourth year, which was sort of ironic, considering that it was always there, so near. Yet, until then she hadn't given that simple fact. 

It was common fact in Hogwarts that that spot was a common meeting place for lovers, couples who were most likely in their intermediate years and probably planning to marry after Hogwarts. Too many times had Hermione spotted seventh or sixth year couples leaving the clearing maybe after their snogging sessions or something like that, with a sense of envy that she had not yet found someone to share the foolishly enjoyable feeling of love. Yet, the spot by the Hogwarts lake was beautiful, and she could not find anyone better to share the view with than her friends. Yes, perhaps tomorrow she could invite Harry and Ron and even Ginny down to that specific spot to enjoy a farewell picnic before they left Hogwarts for France. It would definitely mean a lot to them, especially to Ginny, who would miss them dearly during the entire month of their excursion. 

But that was for tomorrow, and today was drifting away slowly. Hermione wondered if she should go down there for a few moments and enjoy the solitude of the scene while she waited for the hours until dawn came. 

Her more logical side objected to the rash thought, but then she realised that it would not be such a bad idea.

Deciding on it, Hermione entered her room once again as she ran to dress up in a much warmer attire for the cold weather bellow. She pondered on how to cross the Hogwarts halls without being seen but smiled to herself as she remembered that the invisibility cloak was still in her possession from the last time she had borrowed it from Harry.

~~*

Kicking another small pebble in to the lake with a black booted foot, he pulled his pale white hands out of the leather gloves and shoved it in his pocket. He did not even know why he bothered to wear them anyway as he fondly found that his hands temperature barely ever changed. 

Draco turned up at the canopy of the trees that hung above him and began to notice the near-full moon starting to descend in to the horizon. Draco guessed that it must be midnight. He twisted his gaze towards the west and found hovering grey clouds threatening to cover up the clear sky as they moved slowly eastward.  It was going to rain, he thought as he looked back at the shimmering lake slightly amused at the giant squid doing cartwheels on the lake bottom looking similar to a muggle Ferris wheel at carnivals.

Shrugging, he wondered what he was even doing there, for surely not to see this, he thought scowling at the squid. He had let his instinct lead him there, once again being so vulnerable to his senses. It didn't matter to him what he did then, but a cold night out by the Hogwarts lake sounded better than sulking in the Slytherin common room once again.

He closed his eyes gingerly breathing the crisp air that filled the atmosphere. He pushed his hair back away from his eyes as he took a step towards the glistening body of water. 

He took a step back however as he heard twigs snap at a cluck of a heel.

~~*

Hermione wandered out on to the schoolyard in her invisible self casually. The footsteps of her high-heeled boots were heard she took each step crushing the grass under her feet. She neared the lake almost too quickly as the grass became thinner and shorter. She took the invisibility cloak off herself and placed it casually in the small bag she had brought along with her.

Squinting her eyes in the dark, she could make out a twisted path leading towards the lake. The walkway was lined with small stones that were probably placed there purposefully. Hermione led herself down the narrow pathway and moved towards the many trees that hid the clearing by the lake. 

A few leaves and twigs stuck to her bushy hair as she moved through the bushes that were planted among the trees, that it started to look like a birds nest. Hermione managed to untangle some of the leaves that were caught in her hair as she moved slowly towards the edge of the clearing.

Moving a few steps in to the clearing, she almost ran towards the group of rocks by the lake. Then she realised that she was not alone. Her eyes drifted over to the left side of the lake and she caught the sight of someone standing before it.

His back was to her, and he didn't seem to notice her presence. It did not take a genius to know who he was. 

The moonlight, brightly reflecting over the silent waters of the lake, also reflected off his silver blonde hair. It seemed like he had gone swimming in a pool of unicorn blood, the way he looked; radiant as the moon itself glowing in the dark sky. The black cloak he wore started to move to the left as Hermione felt a strong breeze blow around the clearing. She wondered for a moment what she was doing there, observing Draco Malfoy as he stood, whom, she also observed looked so… peaceful, standing there.

Hermione shrugged silently as she forced her feet to turn back around towards the path returning to the palace. It wouldn't do for her to be seen by him now, she had been avoiding him for the past few days now and now was definitely not the time to have herself be insulted, no way was she going to spend the last few minutes of her birthday having a silly argument over something with him.

Hermione took a step towards the path, but she had stepped on a small twig she hadn't seen. She wondered if he heard it. But he answered her question almost instantly.

"Leaving so soon?" he drawled from behind her. Hermione turned around slowly as she looked at him. Surprisingly, she found that he hadn't turned around. He probably wasn't even aware that he was in the presence of a mudblood.

She kept quiet for a moment; she decided that he would have to find that out for himself. 

Turning around leisurely to see who had stepped in the middle of his solitude, Draco looked almost surprised to find her standing before him from across the clearing. He quickly regained his indifference as he narrowed his eyes at her.

"Granger," he muttered under his breath.

Hermione barely flinched at the mention of her name. She was used to him addressing her in such a cold manner. She met his hateful look with an equally disgusted expression, hoping to convey her sentiments to him without words.

"What are you doing here?" he asked as if he did not even care to hear her answer. He looked back to the lake.

Hermione scoffed. "I don't think that's any of your business Malfoy," she said coldly. She wanted to leave at that very moment, but it seemed that she was glued to her spot. 

Draco looked back at her. He smirked maliciously at her. "So, you've gone down to stalking me now Granger?" he said sardonically.

"I have no intentions of doing such absurd things," said Hermione. Draco looked at her face. It was starting to flush as he knew he was annoying her. How he loved doing so.

"Really now, I'd have to hand it to you Granger," he said with the same irritatingly amused tone. "Although I have to say I'm touched, I know I'm overly handsome, but still," He paused as he observed her lips that tightened almost automatically. "But do you really think that I deserve the attentions of a mudblood?" he finished snidely.

She glared at him; her hair seemed to be sharing her angry sentiments as it flew in almost all directions in the violent gusts of wind that blew around the both of them. 

"Sod off Malfoy, Yet if you prefer to amuse yourself with such childish dreams, than I shall now leave you to it," she said stiffly. Hermione took a step backwards and turned to leave when he heard his laugh.

"Oh, I don't think I'll be having such horrible dreams for quite sometime," he started walking towards her direction slowly, closing the distance between them. "Considering of course, that they involve the likes of you," he hissed. 

Hermione flinched. She hadn't been aware that he was merely a few meters from her until he continued his statement. She decided to stop herself from talking retorting to his snide remark as she moved towards the path leading away from the clearing.

She had taken one step from him when he had grabbed her arm and forced her to face him. Hermione stumbled towards him as he forcefully pulled her away from the pathway. 

As she regained her balance, she looked up and glared at him.

"Oh, did I scare the little mudblood?" he spat malignly refusing to let go of her arm. 

Struggling to get free of his strong grip she did not stop sending him death stares.

"I'm not afraid of you Malfoy," she said curtly. "I would merely want to be blessed with the relief of knowing that _you_ are far away from me," 

Not a moment passed and she heard his diabolical laughter searing though her brain. 

"Do you hate me that much Granger?" he asked with the same indifference. Her expression changed, she looked seemingly surprised. 

It took her a few moments to answer him back. "Hate is a passionate word Malfoy," she said calmly. "Loathe or despise would be more suitable,"

Draco's lips twitched slightly. Hermione wondered if it was because he didn't want to hear what she had just said, or because he felt it was true.

His grip on her arm tightened almost suddenly. Hermione closed her eyes as she tried to ignore the spasms of pain running up and down her arm. 

"Like I care, what a mudblood thinks of me…" he said in the coldest tone she had ever heard him use. "You are nothing _mudblood_, remember that," he hissed.

Hermione's eyes flew open as she heard his hateful remark. Draco saw a flicker of emotion in her eyes as she stared at him. He read it as something more than the pain he had so purposefully caused her as he forced her to stay in her place, practically digging his fingers in to her flesh under her robes. His grip on her loosened slightly. 

Her struggle seemed to increase as he tried to pull her arm away from him. Draco looked at her with slight astonishment, realising how much of a fighter she was. He dropped her arm suddenly and she reached for the area he had held which he guessed was increasingly painful. 

She continued to glare at him but she did not run away as he expected her to. Unexpectedly she raised a hand, and before he knew it, she struck his cheek with as much force as she could afford. 

"I am not nothing! I-I matter, just as every one else!" she practically screamed at him. Draco turned back to her as he chose to ignore the tingling sensations that he felt in the side of his face.

He managed a smirk as he retorted. "And by every one else you mean every other wizard, or every other mudblood of your kind,"

Hermione's face turned a dark shade of red as she raised her hand to strike him once more. But Draco was ready for her this time. He caught her wrist and held it in the same firm manner as he did her arm earlier.

Hermione looked down trying to suppress a sob. There was no way that she would let him have the satisfaction of knowing that he had made her cry. 

"I hate that name, I hate it," she said softly, she looked back at him with a slightly helpless look in her eyes. Draco was taken aback by the vulnerability that he saw in her eyes. He asked himself if he should really be causing her this much pain but then thought against it. It didn't matter; _she_ did not matter, he tried to force these words in to his mindset.

"That's not my problem, I'm not the mudblood,"

Hermione pulled her hand away from his grip with all the strength she had in her. She turned towards the path, but it seemed that he had pulled her too far away from there, the forest behind her seemed closer. In a matter of seconds, she found herself running blindly thought the thickets of the forest. 

~

Draco was taken aback as she ran towards the forest; he hadn't expected her to react so violently towards his remark. His mind kept racking with visions of her having an accident in the Forbidden Forest, and to his disbelief, they disturbed him.

Before he knew what he was doing, Draco took off after her tracing her the path she had set for herself in the thick bushes that had been crushed as she had torn through the forest. 

He caught sight of her almost instantly as she refused to cease running through the forest. 

Hermione heard quick paces behind her, following her own. It registered in her mind; he was following her. She forced herself to keep going as she took a turn to the left, seeing a grassy field beyond the many trees.

She led herself to the other side of the schoolyard, recognizing it instantly as the edge of the Quidditch pitch. His paces did not cease as he continued to trail her. She was sure that he would catch up to her very soon but she would not let herself be caught. 

She hurried on to the field struggling to reach the doors of the castle before he reached her. But he was closer than she thought as she felt herself being pulled back by the cloak as she reached the first heath of the field. Hermione looked behind her and saw that Draco had gripped the end of her cloak.

Unfortunately, the realization came too late as she tripped and fell on her back, unexpectedly bringing him down on her.

Hermione felt a shock of pain run through her spine as Draco fell on top of her. Draco whose hand was still gripping her cloak found that they were in a most compromising situation. Their legs were entangled with each other's and Draco struggled to get up when he realised that they had fallen a top of a small hill. And before they knew it, the both of them were sent rolling down the hill in grunts of pain.

They reached the bottom of the hill in the same position. Draco was still on top of her and she still had her eyes closed tightly. Hermione managed a slight cry of pain as she found that his weight upon her caused her difficulty in breathing. Draco moved his weight off her as she exhaled in relief.

He looked down at her flushed face stained with tears that flowed down her face. She still had her eyes closed as he raised his hand to brush away the trail of stubborn tears that she hadn't even known to have cried until he touched her cheek with his cold hand. He relished in the pleasure of touching her face once again.

Hermione's eyes shot open as she felt him caress her cheek so tenderly. Her vision focused almost instantly as she gazed at him in wonder. She had never expected him to be capable of ever comforting her. She looked into his eyes and was not surprised to see that soft emotion she had grown to love as they lay there, gazing at each other curiously.

Draco ran his eyes over her gentle features, inattentively memorizing every detail of it in to his mind. The sight of her flawless creamy complexion, which was now tinged with a reddish color, did not fail to make him want to touch it once again. Her hazel eyes, curiously staring at him in speculation possessed the same innocence in them in which they had always appeared. His eyes trailed down to her lips, which were parted slightly revealing white teeth. He noticed almost instantly how much he adorned the sight of her lips. Puffed and reddening, he imagined what it would feel like if he were to—

Before he knew what he was doing, he captured her lips with his, kissing her savagely. His mouth moved so expertly over hers, arousing every feeling in her body and making her tremble with confusion.

Hermione gasped as Draco kissed her, opening her mouth further allowing him further penetration into the gates he had unknowingly desired to unlock for so long. Even surprising herself, Hermione did not do anything to resist. She found herself devoid of reluctance as she kissed him back. She raised her arms to wrap them around him, deepening the kiss even more.

Draco almost broke away from her in shock that she had pulled him closer to her. But he easily regained his senses and continued kissing her. His hands found her hair almost instantly and he tangled his fingers through them gripping her head lightly as he tilted her neck. Thoughts of speculation ran through his mind during that moment, he wondered if he did it merely to pain her mirthlessly or because… because he could not resist her anymore at that moment.

It was like a dream, everything around them had fallen away and there was nothing else, nothing in this world that kept them apart. At that moment, no one existed but them.

He broke the kiss suddenly as he looked away to breathe. Hermione had done the same as she heard her heart pounding in her ears. Her confused mind tried to focus on what just happened. She turned back to him and found that he refused to meet her gaze. He managed to run his fingers out of her dishevelled hair effortlessly as he seemed bent on grasping a fragment of self-control he could usually regain easily.

Out of coincidence, Draco had felt soft drops of water falling upon his cloak while he lay in that position above her. It was starting to rain.

Hermione seemed to have observed this as well as she looked up at the sky as drops of rain started pouring out from the dark clouds above them.

Draco stood up as he realised that his cloak was becoming rather wet.

Hermione began to sit up when she realised that the pain in her back had barely gone away. She forced herself to stand up in an attempt to ignore the pain. Unexpectedly he extended his hand towards her direction. She stared at it for a moment before taking it and finally standing up.

Draco did not even bother to look at her as she muttered a brisk thank you. He turned away from her wholly expecting her to continue her run to the castle. Only this time, he would not care to stop her.

But she did not, Hermione stood there, looking at him as the rain fell upon them heavily. She saw him run his fingers through his drenched hair in an attempt to squeeze out the water that it held.

She found the gesture somewhat … attractive.

He turned around and looked at her, remaining rather indifferent.

He observed her looking at him in confusion, her hair was dripping wet and it hung loosely about her face, pulled down by the weight it had so inevitably carried. She had her hands on her arms as in an effort to warm herself from the cold rain. He wondered how she could stay here and stand around him now after what he had done.

Hermione approached him curiously and to his surprise, she reached up and brushed away a dripping lock of his blonde hair that had fallen over his eyes. 

Draco looked at her intently, watching her actions closely. Before he knew it, his hands found their way around her slender waist that was emphasised by the damp clothe sticking to her figure closely. He pulled her against him firmly and she found herself unable to resist his embrace. A hand automatically found its way to his chest and started moving against it.

He relinquished the pleasure of having her against him as if their bodies fit perfectly together.

Hermione sighed as she melted into his embrace. Her senses were running wild and she could not think of anything less at that moment, but he was here, holding her firmly against him and making her feel like tomorrow did not matter anymore. She was sure that her knees would never support her if he didn't hold her up. 

But what was she doing? She was enjoying this; she knew she was. Her heart had never beaten this fast in her entire life. The sweet sensations that run up her spine were almost too much for her senses to bear.

It was wrong, thought it felt right. It took everything in her to pull away from his embrace. 

Draco looked at her as she slowly backed away. He studied her mildly shocked expression as she looked at him. A faint blush was evident in her cheeks as he could see through the rain. There was a beauty in her that he had always known, a delicate simple beauty that could never be seen in any one else. How he pitied Potter and Weasley now, for not noticing it even in the slightest. Draco had had always thought that she was undeserving of that, that subtle beauty only she possessed, but now he was beginning to doubt that thought. He began to doubt everything at that moment, as he realised that all he could think about was holding her again.

She looked up and met his gaze with her own, looking in the murky depths the two silver pools of mystery, wanting nothing more to do but to understand the boy that stood so close before him then. Without knowing it, she was fascinated by him. She had never known anyone who bore so much mysteriousness than him. Nor had she ever seen anyone who had been bequeathed with such delicate angel fallen beauty that was so unique and godlike. She admitted at that moment that Lavender and Parvati were actually right about Malfoy when they said _'he *is* a git, but a hot one at that,'_

Draco looked away from her.

"Just go," he whispered in a voice barely audible in the rain; he never sounded so mild in his life. 

Hermione closed her eyes. She took a step backwards and proceeded to turn away, not trusting herself anymore to follow her instincts. She ran across the wet grassy field careful not to slip. She continued blindly running through the rain until she caught sight of the castle.

Draco looked down on to the murky meadow that began to become muddy as the rainfall increased. He turned away from the sight of Hermione running towards the castle. Refusing to admit to a sense of loss that he so painfully felt as she fled.

~~*

_Laugh, and the world laughs with you;  
Weep, and you weep alone.  
For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,  
But has trouble enough of its own.  
Sing, and the hills will answer;  
Sigh, it is lost on the air.  
The echoes bound to a joyful sound,  
But shrink from voicing care.  
  
Rejoice, and men will seek you;  
Grieve, and they turn and go.  
They want full measure of all your pleasure,  
But they do not need your woe.  
Be glad, and your friends are many;  
Be sad, and you lose them all.  
There are none to decline your nectared wine,  
But alone you must drink life's gall.  
  
Feast, and your halls are crowded;  
Fast, and the world goes by.  
Succeed and give, and it helps you live,  
But no man can help you die.  
There is room in the halls of pleasure  
For a long and lordly train,  
But one by one we must all file on   
Through the narrow aisles of pain.  
  
_

_~Solitude _

_-Ella Wheeler Wilcox_


	6. The French Castle

~~*

As long as I kept moving, my grief streamed out behind me like a swimmer's long hair in water.

I knew the weight was there but it didn't touch me. 

Only when I stopped did the slick, dark ambiances of it come floating around my face, catching my arms and throat till I began to drown. __

So I just didn't stop. The substance of grief is not imaginary.

It's as real as rope or the absence of air, and like both those things, it can kill. My body understood there was no safe place for me to be.

Chapter Six: The FrenchCastle

Splashes of water flew in the air as her shoes hit the surfaces of the puddles heavily. Her robes were wet, soaked in fact as she reached the doors of the castle. She pushed them open and then slipped inside the dimly lit hall slowly.

She did not even look around to see if anyone had seen her, as she rushed across the hall and walked on to one of the revolving staircases that lead to the stairway towards the Gryffindor tower. Her mind was spinning uncontrollably as she remembered the events that had just occurred. She climbed the stairs; unable to think rightly as she longed only for escape… escape from the night that had been the setting of such a deadly memory.

As she entered the common room after muttering the password nonchalantly to the Fat Lady, she walked silently up to her room. Her hair was disarray, her face was wet with a mixture of soft tears and rain and her mind was uncontrollably flashing with visions of the Forbidden Forest, the lake, the meadow, the rain and a pale blonde boy who so undoubtedly caught her intrigue during those fateful moments.

She stepped inside the dark room and slipped off her wet robe almost instantly. It slid off her body and collected in a dark pool on the floor. Hermione walked over to her four-poster and sat down quietly upon it. She grasped one of the posts of her bed as she caught her breath with an effort. 

As expected, she could not keep still as she quickly stood up and moved towards the bathroom. She the faced the mirror and she saw a girl, too impossibly vulnerable to be her. A girl whose cheeks glowed redder than blood as if she had just met with her lover and felt so many unexplainable sensations to even consider acting sane. Hermione froze. She looked away form the mirror at once and walked over to the bathtub and then walked back to the room again. She refused to believe that she rejoiced in the earlier happenings. If her right mind were to be consulted, the fact that she had just kissed Draco Malfoy would be enough to make her run mad with disgust and decadence. But her sentiments were not that at all. She was beginning to become afraid of herself.

What had she done?

Her mind racked with the delicate vision of him, bending down to meet her lips with his and her, helpless yet not feeling helpless at all. She, who had not done so much as to resist, even thought she knew she would lose. At that moment, out in the rain, she had been certain of everything, maybe because she had lost the will to think. Her sentiments overcame her logical mind and they were too strong to ignore. How? How could she not even think of what would happen, if somebody would find out? If somebody had seen… her life, and his even, would be ruined. Why hadn't she thought of that? Why didn't she fight? Hermione gasped at the realization that at that moment… She swore under her breath. Looking back, recalling what she had been thinking then, and what she thought now… she was almost too sure…

At that moment, she did not want to fight. 

Instinctively, her hand trailed up to her lips and traced them with an evoking sentiment, and she closed her eyes as she remembered the tenderness that had touched them a few distant moments ago. She felt as if her mind had parted into two striking and contending each other, wanting and hating at the same time. Did she want him, did she? Did she feel that he could ever be?

No, never. Her mind screamed at the thought and yet it also opened her up to the possibility. What possibility? 

Hermione stopped and she abruptly pulled her hand away from her lips. Remembering that would mean remembering him. And to think that she had almost admitted to enjoying the unspeakable occurrence that had seemed like a forgotten memory that had been so blithely recalled.

She shook her head. _No,_ it was not at all a precious memory; it was a nightmare. Malfoy couldn't have thought of a better way to torment her. And as usual, he left her with an underlying sense of confusion. It didn't even seem new to her now. But there was something else; she knew there was. It wasn't just confusion this time, it was also… doubt.

Now she doubted herself so much. She was beginning to believe that she wasn't worth her self-trust anymore. Even at the moment when she sat here silently tormented, her mind could not help but try to remember that fleeting moment out in the rain when everything had felt so right. Her mind was betraying her as visions of the distant nightfall plagued her. Every word sounded so clearly said, every action so vigorously meant, everything seemed so perfect… though it was increasingly far from so. 

Hermione's wide gaze trailed over to the open balcony door. The rain outside poured even louder than before; it registered in her clouded mind that she had forgotten to close it. The dark crimson curtain was soaking wet and the stone floor by the door was flooding gradually from the rain.

Her mind trailed away from the open door as another sudden realization had dawned on her. Until that night… she had never been kissed.

~~*

Draco turned towards the castle as the rains slowly ceased. He could not remember how long he had been out there, but he refused to care. His footsteps silently grazed the damp grassy field as he walked towards the castle. Dawn was starting to peak out from beneath the mountains that nested the Hogwarts grounds.

He retrieved a black handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his pale face of the droplets of rain that had fallen upon his face. He could not bear to think that they looked much like tears. Draco shrugged. He never cried as a child. He always knew sadness, but he never cried. 

Many of the grown-ups had thought him peculiar_._ According to his father, tears were a sign of weakness. And he had gone through his childhood struggling to please his father. 

Tears. _She_ never attempted to hide her sadness. That was because she was exceedingly true to herself. So many people had fashioned themselves that way, and in his eyes, that was ridiculous. Nobody could ever live a completely honest life, and at one point had to hide behind a curtain to conceal their flaws they even pretended not to have. But Hermione was no different… Draco knew this, yet he had this notion that she had something that he could not, for the first time, even begin to comprehend.

Draco's mind reeled as he remembered Hermione suddenly. His mouth was tightened in a frown. Strangely, for the first time, he could not manage a smirk. Not now, that he felt an underlying sense of need surge through his veins. A need to see her again, to touch her, to know that she was real. He hated himself for wanting to see her; he tried to tell himself that she was nothing. But now, he could not clear his mind when he thought of her. 

He could not wipe the memory of her from his mind it clashed through his senses as clearly as a precious reminiscence. He envisioned her eyes wide with rage as she was screaming at him. His senses were screaming at him also telling him that he was loosing his mind, thinking about Hermione Granger so avidly. He had caused her pain and he was supposed to enjoy it. Because that was what he wanted in the first place. He had wanted revenge for making him feel confused. He had indeed pained her but… it… it made him regret it. His anger towards her grew at that realization. His regret made him want to comfort her, and it aroused an underlying desire to be consumed within her. 

He had kissed her. And he had never tasted anything as addictive as her lips in his life. But as soon as he had realized her potency, he broke apart from her. Because he didn't want to be the weak one. He did not want her to be the one who so easily controlled him, not even knowing that she could easily do so. No, after all he still held that same Malfoy arrogance he had always been proud of. And she was innocent, naïve and pure. He had never thought that she held so grave an influence on him. He was risking being broken because of her, but he would never permit it. That was what caught his intrigue. Her untainted nature was something so foreign to him. It caught him off guard and it drew his interest off everything else. It pained him to know that he would never have something she had. Just like the beginning, he was still jealous of her. 

Draco looked back across the field with a heavy chest. He felt a miserable emotion plague him and engulf him in a sadness she could have never understood. Draco closed his gloved hand in a fist; never had he felt a need for understanding in his life. He saw how she was changing him, and it would not do. 

It was all a pile of lies… everything… everything that he had unknowingly wanted to happen maybe because he wanted to escape the cold and dark world that was supposed to be home to him. They did not have anything… Draco closed his eyes… they would never have.

And he was supposed to be thankful that this was so.

Yet, why did he feel so empty in the most painful sense that he had ever felt? Of course, he was always numb, and he liked it. Being numb beat feeling pain. Yet Granger… Hermione had aroused an unknown feeling in him. A distant feeling he had been too logical to understand. Hating her felt like hating himself… wanting her felt like wanting to die. This paradoxical madness was all her fault to him. Yes, he always needed someone to blame. And this time it was Hermione. 

Blaming her felt wrong. Draco shook his head. What _was so_ wrong? He wasn't even sure if he was the same person now. All the ostensibly resolved ideas were always questionable now… why? He wasn't sure if he believed the same principles, he once believed. 

Hermione had changed something in him. He was too proud to even acknowledge the thought. No matter how small, it mattered. Yes, it mattered dearly.

~~*

Ginny hurriedly rushed outside the castle doors of Hogwarts frantically as she sought to search the crowded grounds of her brother, Harry and Hermione. A bright yellow scarf was gently wrapped around her neck and its frilly edge was draped over her white summer dress. The brilliant smile on her face could not have been more marvellous, although a sense of worry plagued her thoughts, she could not have revealed it then. Not then, when her friends were in an anxious mood due to their forthcoming trip.

With a keen eye, she scanned the crowd again and easily spotted the trio amongst the crowd. She hurried towards them, pushing her way through the sixth years. 

Hermione, who was by the edge of the field with Harry, Ron and the other Gryffindors, stood on her toes to see Ginny coming towards them. They were by a large tree, which provided them shade from the sun on that bright clear day.

"Hermione, Merlin, I thought I'd just missed you three," said Ginny in a tired breath just as she ceased running and came towards them in a slow jog. Her hair flew with the wind, as if it was burning in the wind. She was a beautiful sight to any boy who had seen her.

Ron and Harry turned towards the young Weasley and grinned. Ron gave a vigorous laugh as he came around to greet his younger sister.

"Didn't think we'd leave without saying goodbye did you Gin?" he said with a heavy pat on Ginny's back. 

Ginny winced at the pressure and Harry smiled at her in sympathy. Ginny smiled back weakly and turned to Hermione. 

Hermione spotted the yellow scarf around Ginny's slender neck and smiled as well. 

"I see you like it just as much as I thought you would," said Hermione admiring her choice and how it fit wonderfully on Ginny.

"Indeed, I do. I love it! Thanks Minie," said Ginny with a grin, flaunting her scarf even more in the October zephyr. "I didn't think it was you who had bought it, the fact is, I came back to Gladrags to buy it with the money Fred and George gave me and I was disappointed to see it was gone. But seeing it on my bed this morning…"

"Think nothing of it," exclaimed Hermione with a jolly smile.

"I'll pay you back…" insisted Ginny as she started to open a small pouch that contained coins. Hermione sought to stop her.

"No, I insist. It's a gift… and all I want you to do is to hold on to it until we're back, I promise you we'll indeed be back," said Hermione reassuringly sensing the worry in the younger girl. She had still not forgotten Ginny's words in the hospital wing and in her dormitory. She could tell that Ginny's sense of worry had diminished not one bit.

"Don't worry, I will…" she said.

Just then, the stagecoaches brought by the invisible thestrals. Harry looked up to see the special sight that he and a few more, among many could easily see. Hermione and Ron followed his glace up into the sky where they saw the carriages descending from the sky.

"Still there aren't they?" asked Hermione softly to Harry. Hermione was reminded of their glum fifth year when they rode these invisible creatures along with Neville and Luna from Ravenclaw and came to the Ministry of Magic. When they sought to rescue Sirius from Voldemort, only to bring about his painful death. 

Hermione could not help but notice that after Sirius had died, Harry was never the same. His hot temper during the fifth year had disappeared, yet what was so arduous about it was that it was replaced by an emptiness that could not have been more heart wrenching than to his friends. Nobody could ever talk to Harry the same way again.

Hermione was one of them tried to reach out to Harry. But whenever she asked how he was doing, he always said the same thing. It was the same no matter who was asking, be it Ron, or her, Mrs. Weasley, Tonks, Mad-eye or anyone else in the Order. He would always brush them off and tell them with a blank _expression; _Yes, I'm fine_. No body else wanted to ask Harry that question again after the occurrence. It hurt them to see him answer them in a cool, calm voice saying everything was alright with him when it really was not. Hermione even said that she preferred it if Harry would scream at her and Ron again and just let it out rather than seeing what he had become; an unfeeling slave of incessant tormenting sorrow.

Harry looked towards her and felt a mild surge of anger. Did everyone have to remind him of how painfully different he was? He could see them because had seen death. He had seen Cedric Diggory murdered before his eyes; he had seen how helpless he was. He could see himself sitting there, doing nothing. Oh yes, it still haunted Harry, even though how long it had been, he could never forget it. 

But then Hermione looked at Harry with her look of concern. Then all the anger dissolved into nothingness. Harry never forgot how he had friends like Hermione and Ron, who were there for him no matter how stubborn and irrational he was. No matter what he put them through. He looked at Hermione with a keen eye. He was reminded of how much she meant to him… 

"Yes, yes they are… always there," he said softly.

Ron turned to them and gave Harry a comforting smile. "Nothing to worry mate, we'll be here too, always…" he said noticing the sullen mood Harry was in once again.

Ginny approached her them and smiled at Harry. "Always here," she said.

But a moment passed and the five Professors along with Hagrid approached the students. The sixth years quieted down gradually as Professor Mc Gonagall began to speak.

"All sixth years into the carriages now. Hurry along, we don't want to be off schedule," she said in her usual stern tone.

Hermione turned to Ginny and smiled. She then gave the younger girl a mild hug. "We'll be alright, see you soon," she said to her. Harry and Ron joined in the farewells as they each hugged Ginny goodbye.

Ginny smiled back at the trio, she failed to hide her concern as they crossed the lawn and boarded a carriage Lavender had already reserved for them. 

Then she turned back to the castle and when at the doors, she looked back at the bright blue sky following the sight of the carriages as they flew into the air. 

"Hermione, Harry… be safe," she said silently. And she walked back into the castle.

~~*

_Seeing the tall redheaded girl entering the castle the dark figure moved back into the darkness. He moved back into the castle as well, not letting a single ray of light reveal his hidden face. He followed the young Weasley back into the castle trying to uncover the secrets of why she could see the impending dangers of what would befall Harry Potter and his sidekicks in Brentenoux castle during the next month. _

_The strange shadowy creature sunk into the dark walls whenever one would turn and look in his direction. Then, he would follow along the footsteps of the special girl who knew more of the Dark Arts that she could have imagined._

_He had planned much for the young girl, now that she was alone. Now that they had left her alone, even more solitary than before. He knew for a fact that she was nothing but a hindrance in his master's magnificent plan, the plan that would surely see Harry Potter to his grave. His master's perfect, flawless plan. It would work just like they had planed it would, and no fifteen-year-old would be the source of their downfall… again. He would make certain that young Ginny would not warn the Boy-Who-Lived and his friends of these dangers, even if he would have to dispose of her himself. _

_She would meet her end soon enough. And he, he would be there to make certain of it._

~~*

"Draco…"

"Draco… DRACO?!" said Blaise from her seat in the carriage as Draco turned to glare at her with a deadly look for interrupting his thoughts. She winced slightly and almost regretted screaming like she did. They had been inside the flying carriages for almost three hours now, she thought quickly that he was merely becoming restless.

"What is it now?" Draco said irritably as he gazed back out the window and surveyed the landscape. He looked intent on viewing it yet in truth his mind was far away. 

Blaise cleared her throat mildly. "What is it with you? What, is a pixie up your arse now? It's been since yesterday that you've been that way," she said boldly doing her best to retrieve his attention. She, like all the other girls in Slytherin house absolutely detested being ignored, even by someone they cared for.

Draco shrugged. "Nothing, I told you, I said it doesn't matter" he turned towards her and fixed her with a convincing glare, which told her plainly to drop the subject. Yet, he absentmindedly let Blaise know that there was indeed something on his mind.

"We're supposed to be there by nightfall, do you think there will be time… for us?" she said changing the subject quickly. Draco looked back at her and his gaze softened slightly. 

"Probably not, I believe Professor Figg has this idea of the arrangement of our quarters according to whom we're grouped with" he said in a disgusted tone. "Let us hope you do not get a room which is infested by Millicent Bulstrode,"

Blaise looked equally revolted to hear the fact. "And you, sleeping in the same vicinity as Granger and Finnegan, it is absolutely unthinkable," she said putting on a sick look. "Do you think you will be able to ward off Granger completely during the entirety of the season, it would be a shame if she would denigrate you with her mudblood filth…" she crinkled her nose as if in resentment of her own statement.

Draco automatically shook his head with repugnance, but then the realization dawned on him. He would be, as Blaise had said, residing in the same quarters as Granger. He was instantly visited by the unavoidable memory of two nights before. Draco put his hand to his forehead quickly and closed his eyes as though trying to ward off the disturbing thought. She could not think of that now; it was nothing, nothing but a mistake.

Blaise caught his actions quickly. " Are you alright?' she quickly asked and she unlaced her fingers and tautly turned towards him.

"Fine," Draco said hastily. 

Blaise looking reassured turned towards the windows with an ominous hope. She smiled remembering that Draco along with that suck up Granger were in full charge of the sixth year body and as any other Slytherin would think, she wanted to use this to her advantage. 

"I'm sure we could easily bend the rules, don't you think so?" she said turning to him.

Draco looked back at her. "Of course," he said.

Blaise closed her eyes as he assured her. She was sure that he wasn't even fully aware of what he was reassuring her. It merely comforted her to hear that he agreed with her and that when she reminded him of it, he would oblige, because he would never admit to forgetting anything he had uttered. Draco was a man of his word, or at least he still is. Blaise dreaded to think what he would soon become after he had officially accepted his father's request to join the ranks of the Death Eaters. But she knew that she could do nothing about it when the time came. 

~~*

"You're ridiculous," giggled Hermione as Ron continued on with an imitation of Mundungus Fletcher when Mrs. Weasley chased him with a bag of dead rats for sneaking in a batch of stolen pixie venom into Grimmauld place last summer. He was in the process of lightening the atmosphere as a light drizzle started to fall upon the carriage. 

"You sound exactly like him, erm… them" said Hermione with a smile. Harry could not help but grin. 

Lavender who thought Ron was doing one of his twin brothers being chased down by their mother laughed equally hard. Ron, though how much he respected his girlfriend could never relay anything of number twelve Grimmauld place without telling her what it was. He remembered her reaction towards the rumors that flew around in the summer of their fourth year when Harry had been bombarded by nasty lies about his behavior. He knew that she did not believe that of Harry now but still, Ron, along with the others were sworn to secrecy.

"I'd imagine this trip without you Ron, it would be intensely boring," said Lavender fondly as she opened the sweet box that she had just drawn from her bag and handed it to Ron.

"And don't I know it," he said popping another chocolate frog from the box that Lavender had brought along for the ride inside his mouth.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "No need to be humble Ron, it does not suit you…" she said sarcastically.

Harry looked at her with an _expression of complete agreement. He turned towards the window and noticed the darkening clouds outside. A threatening storm was in store for them if the thestrals did not start to fly higher and fast.

"I think it's going to pour," he said nonchalantly.

Ron raised his head and turned towards the window as well. "Yeah, but maybe not that much," he said.

Just then, a roar of thunder racked the carriage and it was suddenly thrown sideward sending Hermione hurling towards Harry and Lavender towards Ron. Hermione's head hurled directly at Harry's chest and he gave a sudden gasp of pain. She groaned softly as she felt a dizzy feeling overcome her. But then her hand held his shoulder for support as she looked up at him with a confused look. 

Harry felt a sudden sensation rundown his spine that reminded him of the feeling of being disillusioned. She met his eyes and he was not even sure of the _expression that was in them at the moment. She saw a faint eye of concern but it was hard to tell because his _expression had suddenly tensed. Harry realised the lenience in which she could capture his interest and all of a sudden, he knew… He knew that she was one of the things that kept him going, one of the things that he lived for, one of the things he was fighting for. He could no longer deny it… she meant much more to him than he could have ever imagined.

"I'm sorry Harry," said Hermione as she straightened up and regained her seat as the carriage rose higher above the clouds to avoid the impending storm. 

Harry almost stone-like, straightened up as well and turned away from Hermione as he muttered something that sounded like "… not your fault," Hermione then turned to acknowledge his indistinct words but seeing as he was not facing her did not speak anymore. She looked at the vista outside the window to her side and admired the scenery obliviously. 

"Spoke too soon, didn't I?" said Ron with a wide grin he could not hold back.

Ron and Lavender from opposite the both of them looked at each other with knowing smiles.

~~*

Darkness fell almost all too quickly over Brentenoux castle, as its white stone walls started to be engulfed in the night only to be distinctly seen only by the torchlight that glowed in it's every window and hall. If one non-magical person were to look atop the mountain of Avaloires, he would merely see a haunted ruin that was not fit for inhabitation. But as the seemingly horseless carriages descended upon the perfectly fertile grounds of Brentenoux, all the passengers could bask in was the wondrous view of the heavenly castle. 

A magnificent feast awaited the guests in the grand ballroom of the French Castle and the castle's staff was awaiting them patiently. A faintly cryptic air surrounded the castle that gave the visitor a vague sense of curiosity. Before the castle was an enormous field that stretched downward for miles and miles. Gardens and lakes scattered all over the place, which displayed an array of brilliant flowers and a variety of strange plants. Heavy forests that were obviously there for the purpose of concealment surrounded the fields. There were creatures running in and about the vicinity feely. Unicorns starting to run out from the forests of Avaloires and galloping through the grassy plain and further along, similar winged creatures took their flight in the night.

The carriages landed on the front field of Brentenoux castle and the doors all opened. From them emerged the restless students who almost automatically were completely overwhelmed by the sight of the marvelous French Castle.

"It's positively breathtaking!" shrieked Lavender as she and Ron walked up to the front row of students crowding the large brass lined doors of the castle not even caring to watch their steps as they approached the stone staircase that led to the enormous doors that led into the splendid structure. 

Hermione who also stood in awe followed Lavender and Ron through the assembly. Harry who also, could not hide his amazement at the enormous structure, followed behind them.

"Can you believe this mate, It's bigger than Hogwarts!" said Seamus from behind the trio. Padma Patil followed close behind him and shared his amazement with a genuine awe stuck _expression.

"I've never seen any Indian palace this big," she said lightly looking up at the tops of the towers of the castle that were hidden in gray spiraling clouds. It almost seemed as if the castle stretched up until the heavens.

"Apparently, the builders of French castles in the fifteen hundreds were obsessed by reaching the heavens as well. It was an age of religion after all," said Hermione matter-of-factly as she noted the architecture.

"Yeah," said Ron nonchalantly obviously not understanding a word she said and turning to the staircase before them that led to the doors. 

"Not so fast Mr. Weasley," said a familiarly stern voice from behind them. Ron turned and stepped back as the crowd parted to let Professor McGonagall through as well as Professors Snape, Figg and Flitwick. The Professor started up the first set of steps and made ready to acknowledge the student body, her fellow teachers stood behind her in silence. The sixth years almost instantly quieted down as she cleared her throat. 

"Well, I do hope all of you can hear me from where you are standing…" she started and a few students moved closer in order to hear her better. "There, now isn't that better. Well now, I would like to remind all of you of a few things before we enter the castle, first of all I would like you all to observe discipline at all times during this project. I'm sure none of you would like to put the name of Hogwarts in shame so I _do_ hope that you all be at your best behavior… is that clear Mr. Goldstein?" she said turning to the bunch of Ravenclaws who had started to giggle at Anthony who was doing an impression of McGonagall reprimanding them. 

"This is not a laughing matter," continued the Professor as she went on. "Second of all, I would like to remind you that your sleeping quarters will be assigned according to the respective groups that you have been assigned." There was a low groan from the crowd and a few rejoicing cheers. Harry and Ron slapped each other's palms at the words. "I'm sure you can see that this is only for your convenience. Working together, you should also be close to each other all throughout this project in order to receive an exceptional grade… And I do require only the best from all of you, any mishaps and trouble will be a point against your entire group, be it the fault of only one group member or all. Which is why again, I remind you to be in your best behavior."

Hermione groaned inwardly as if reminded of a sickening memory. She hadn't expected that she would be staying in a secluded potion of the castle with only her group mates. Of course, Padma and Seamus were all right but there was of course… Malfoy. She shuddered at the thought, once again, she warded off the reminder before it could totally sink in but it was too late. Seconds after and she had turned her head to the crowd without thinking and scanning it for the pale blonde boy who disturbed her thoughts every now and then. She found him just as quickly as she had looked; it was a clear view, even the path looked clear enough to cross. She was instantly surprised to see him staring back at her with a cold _expression. She turned away automatically as she felt a hurtful sensation remembering the emptiness in which he had looked upon her with. 

Hermione shut her eyes; she was not supposed to feel this way. It was impossible to keep her right mind now that he invaded her thoughts once more. How could they possibly work together and aspire to achieve an exceptional grade if they were both busy avoiding each other at all costs? She was not sure if she was prepared to fail because of her own personal insecurities.

"Hermione, Hermione are you all right?" asked Harry from beside her. Hermione slightly startled, looked up at him and saw every bit of his face contorted in an _expression of complete concern. Hermione smiled and was surprised not to see the usual careless glassiness his green eyes usually depicted. 

Hermione nodded. "Yes Harry fine," she said as the crowd started moving and climbing the staircase towards the doors. "We better get going now shouldn't we?" she said as she led Harry who looked plainly unsatisfied up the stairs trailing behind Lavender and Ron.

~~* 

His hand curled into a threatening fist as he took in the sight of Granger taking Potter's hand and running up joyfully up the castle as the huge doors opened to welcome the mass of students who entered automatically, each with an emotion of anxiousness and curiosity. Draco looked away from Hermione as he found that the sight of her sickened him at that moment. After a few moments, he started up the stairs slowly with Blaise patiently following a step behind him. Crabbe, Goyle and a frantic Pansy trailed behind them.

"Shall I take it lightly that you will be most uncomfortable during this entire trip?" said Blaise behind Draco in a doubtfully unfazed tone. Draco grimaced slightly and then turned to her regaining his composure he had barely lost. 

"If you mean to imply that I—" he started in a tone that was building anger.

Blaise shook her head. She advanced a step so that they were now walking in the same line and measured pace. "I was not meaning to imply anything… I merely thought it right to…"

"Point out that I will be miserably stuck with those dimwitted Gryffindors all month," he continued coldly. Blaise blushed an angry shade of crimson as he answered her with a stinging indifference.

"What is wrong with you, will you cease going at my throat for a little while? I know you can handle it," she said. Her cerulean eyes became a darker shade as her edginess increased a little.

"If you are so certain about that, then we have nothing to argue about," said Draco in a tone that plainly said that the conversation was over. Blaise did not speak another word. _'Stubborn, so impossibly stubborn,' _she thought as they entered the magnificent vestibule which was lined with a glasslike wall from which could be seen a distinct illusion of angels bathing in a large lake from behind them. The ceiling was just like those at Hogwarts only they depicted a heavenly atmosphere from which those same looking angels played among the mass of white clouds, chasing each other like they were children, flying across the starry heavens. It was only at the end of the entrance hall was there firelight. Two distinct marble bowls like those by doors of churches could be seen on either side of the arched entrance to the grand ballroom. Bright bluish balls of fire were distinctly burning upon the marble bowls resembling the light of the Goblet of Fire very closely. 

Draco looked up at the enchanted ceiling and just caught sight of a godly angel with long blonde hair wrapping his arms around a beautiful one with exceedingly lengthy brown locks even longer than the height of her. She smiled the most potent _expression of blitheness she could have ever managed and leaned up to catch sight of her winged lover. The blonde angel pulled up his wings and rise a bit higher to rest on a nearby cloud with his woman and Draco could have sworn that he saw the angel look down at him and wink at him with his alluring blue eyes. 

He immediately turned towards the entrance hall and shook off the disturbing image he had almost automatically had when he saw the frolicking angels.

~

The dinning hall was magnificent. A midnight blue sky was shinning upon the hall sputtered with stars. It was clearly an illusion but it looked intensely real. There was no moon visible in the illusionary night sky but yet it was illuminate as a large diamond chandelier hung over the hall illumining every square inch of it. The walls were a dirty white accented by brass frames formed in a classic and intricate French design that fit perfectly in the elegant hall.

As the students settled down in their respective seats which was by request divided into five long oak tables, a middle aged woman who had been sitting in the center of the fifth table that was obviously the head table stood up and prepared to speak. She wore a long blue cloak with hints of silver embroidery along the edges and a hat that matched her cloak and her robes, which were also, blue only a shade lighter with a velvety quality. This woman, who had mildly wrinkled features and streaks of silver sticking out through her black hair that was neatly pulled back yet not as tightly at McGonagal's taut bun, wore half-moon spectacles that suited her pointed blue eyes almost perfectly. 

She raised a spoon off the table and lightly hit her glass goblet to attract the attention she requested. The students quieted down gradually and she cleared her throat to speak.

"Well, seeing az we are all sited and comfortable in our seats, I take it zat zis is ze time to begin," she said in a rather cool voice that barely suited the atmosphere. Her heavy French accent was evident and by the sound of that first sentence, she had not spent a lot of time out of her country. "I am very pleased to welcome all of you to Brentenoux castle," this statement was followed by a warm applause that died down as Professor Figg raised her hand slightly indicating them to stop.

"Let me introduce myself to all of you, I am Madame Vivonne Yvette Morcenx, Senior Propréteur of the Museum of Magical Beasts and Creatures, Brentenoux Castle, Les Avaloires. 

"I would like to say zat I am very 'appy zat all of you 'ave devoted your precious time to join az all 'ere in zis institution. Now, I shall not trouble you any further with my bad English and end zis speech." An air of mild laughter was heard in the room, and all caught a glimpse of a faint smile on Madame Morcenx stern features as she continued. "If zer are any inquiries you would like to make, kindly forward zem to my junior assistant…" she raised her hand and indicated the young blonde woman sitting quietly beside her.

A small bustle in was heard throughout the room. It was only then when everybody realized who the beautiful girl beside Madame Morcenx was.

"Mademoiselle Fleur Delacour." From her seat, she smiled confidently and beamed at the sixth years. Fleur was dressed an a magnificent black dress robe that was lined with small diamonds gleaming at the ruffled edges that was evidently sparkled as she stood up and bowed slightly. The black robe suited her perfectly as it set a contrast to her pale white skin. She also wore small diamond earrings that glimmered in the lamplight. 

Ron with a feeling of rising embarrassment began to sink slowly in his seat. He turned to Harry who was evidently forcing down a laugh and said:

"I think I know who Lupin's correspondence is here in France." 

Hermione laughed, "So do I."

"Ahh, I zink many of you know 'er, anyway… let az not delay dinner much longer… Let ze feast begin," finished Madame Morcenx, and she sat down to a full course dinner right after mentioning the food of her choice aloud. The entire hall followed suit and soon afterwards, the hall was filled with lively conversations.

~~*

"Where do you think the sleeping quarters will be Harry?" asked Ron as he gulped down another helping of escargot quite enthusiastically. His fervour told Hermione that Ron had absolutely no idea of what he was eating. She doubted he would take pleasure in eating anything that resembled slugs.

Harry who was pushing away the rest of his potatoes looked up at Ron and took a moment to think before answering him. He did not really care where they were put. The entire castle was practically gilded that even a broom closet might be a considerable option for sleeping quarters. 

"I recon they'll be on the upper floors, this castle is enormous and there are many possibilities," said Harry. Hermione looked up at them and wished Ron had not brought up the subject. Neville who had been sitting beside her did not seem all too pleased with the subject. Hermione looked at him and felt mildly comforted although he felt sorry for Neville. She knew that Neville had been so unfortunate as to have been grouped with three Slytherins. 

"I don't care where I'm put, as long as it's near you guys," he said smugly. Harry and the others looked up at Neville and felt overly sympathetic. Ron had finally realized the awkwardness of the situation and regretted mentioning the topic. 

Lavender and Parvati started to comfort him telling him that he would be alright as long as he kept his opinions to himself.

"That's not really good advice Lavender," said Hermione giving the girls a grave look.

"Well then what should he do, I'm reminding you that he has two big bodied morons for group mates and he'll be totally defenseless it's one to three. Well Blaise may keep off your case but she can be rather unpleasant when she wants to…" said Lavender. 

Parvati smiled unconsciously behind Neville and continued for Lavender. "I'm pretty sure Blaise will not be a problem Lav," she said with a familiar look that she got when she just found out a new piece of gossip. Her thin lips curved in to a mischievous smile and her eyes darkened.

Lavender raised her eyebrow as though she knew nothing of what her best friend was saying. The smile playing on her lips told everyone that she knew exactly what Parvati was talking about. "What makes you say that?" she asked her with a mild squeak in her voice.

Parvati smiled "Blaise is going out with Draco Malfoy… and if that is not enough to keep her distracted, I don't know what is,"

Lavender gave a slightly amazed _expression. "Well, good point…" she stopped and turned to look at Hermione who gave a wince just after Parvati spoke. Hermione seemed to notice Lavender's eye on her and sought to admire a small statue of a winged horse that was part of the table's centerpiece. 

Ron who was stuffing himself with caviar choked up and almost spit out what he was eating. "If she's going out with Malfoy, she's going to be worse to you Neville," he said with a mild laugh. Lavender glared at him and he quit laughing.

Neville sunk a bit lower in his chair and looked even smugger than before. 

"Don't worry about it Neville," began Harry from his seat whose face began to look more serious. "The Slytherins give you any trouble, we'll have your back and besides you'll have everything we taught you in the D.A." 

Ron who was urged on by Hermione who took that exact moment to trample on his shoe gave a small yelp before replying. "Yeah, we'll be behind you."

"Thanks guys," said Neville not sounding the least bit reassured. He took a bite out of his roasted chicken and barely chewed on it before swallowing. He was not sure if he would be able to avoid a beating from the Slytherins that easily.

Hermione who looked uncomfortably at Harry who had a steady eye upon her managed a weak smile. She had a feeling that she would be the next point of conversation.

Harry turned to Hermione with an air of defensiveness. "And what about you?" he asked with a firm tone. She could not help but notice Harry's eye of concern, she wondered what it could have meant but brushed the thought off quickly. He was just worried about her, after all they were best friends.

Hermione gave an obviously false smile. "What _about _me Harry?" she asked pretending not to get what he meant when in truth she knew exactly what he was implying. 

"Malfoy's in your group," said Harry plainly. He said Malfoy's name with a tone of contempt.

But before he continued, Hermione cut him off. "I'll be fine Harry, I can take care of myself," she said.

"Yeah but Malfoy—" said Ron who managed to grasp the situation. Again, Hermione cut him off. "I'll be _fine_ Ron, really I don't think Malfoy will try anything.

"Oh, I don't know about that…," began Neville who was silent until then. All seemed obliged to listen to what he was going to say because times that Neville chose to let out what was on his mind were very seldom. "He's been as foul to us with or without his cronies ever since the end of the fifth year."

"Try to watch yourself Hermione," said Harry as he chose to let her handle the situation though with doubt and that underlying sense of worry he found so hard to be able to suppress. His concern could not have been more obvious especially to Ron, Lavender and Parvati who smiled to themselves discreetly.

Hermione nodded as Professor Mc Gonagall stood to make an announcement.

"Ah, I see that all of you are done with supper, so let us all proceed to the hall to the left of you," she said extending her hand indicating a wall. The students looked confused for a moment as they wondered what hall Professor Mc Gonagall was referring to, but then all of a sudden, the white walls parted and revealed a splendid hallway extending so far in to the distance that it was hard to tell if it had an end at all. The hallway was brightly lit and had a row of large doors on both sides. The first two doors from the dinning hall were two oak double doors that opened casually as the crowd of students entered briskly into the hallway.

"Hurry on, it is getting late and we would prefer it if everybody were in by midnight," said the Professor stealing a look at Madame Morcenx who had a look that told everyone that she agreed wholeheartedly.

The students entered the atrium gladly and started to peak in to the large rooms that were beyond the doors. Behind the sixth years Professors Mc Gonagall, Snape and Figg along with Madame Morcenx and a number of her assistants began to divide them into the two rooms.

Professor Figg started clearing her throat before she spoke. "Stay with your group mates please," she began. "Now, I want all of you to get inside one of the rooms now and make sure your groups are complete," she said. "Look for the brass sheet with your names on them, the rooms are assigned as we have told you."

"Now, hurry along, the night is dying…," said Professor Mc Gonagall from behind Professor Fig as she led some of the students into the room to the right.

Hermione entered the room to the left along with Harry and Ron, she glance behind her and saw that Padma was behind her. The circular room was filled with at least dozen circling stairs leading somewhere upstairs. 

"These stair cases lead up to different quarters where you will be staying, I'd think you already know that the rooms are assigned according to your different groups and that you may find your names on brass sheets that are posted on the sides of the banisters. Now, all your things have already been brought to your respective rooms," said Mc Gonagall swiftly. Not a second passed and the crowd of students started going around the room looking for their names and excitedly stepping on to the revolving stairways that closed into the ceiling as all of the four occupants were up in their quarters.

"Oy! Harry," shouted Ron from the stairway by the door. Harry immediately rushed towards Ron with Mandy and Parvati "Our names are here, guess this is our room." 

"Quite convenient," said Parvati as she started up the stairs. Harry looked to the side and saw a brass sheet with words written elegantly in thin script the names; Broklehurst, Mandy Brian; Patil, Parvati; Potter, Harry James; Weasley, Ronald Billy.

Harry followed Ron and Parvati up the stairs but not before smiling mildly to Hermione who was across the room standing by another spiral stairway with Padma Patil. 

Hermione felt a mild sense of loss as her two best friends climbed up to their room. She was technically not far at all from the both of them, but she felt like she were a hundred miles away. Hermione turned to Padma who was staring at the bright marble ceiling which did not show any indication of wanting to open up so that they could get up to their rooms.

"I think it will not open up until our group is complete," said Hermione to which Padma agreed with an impatient tone.

"Alright, I'll look for Seamus, you look for … uhrgh… Malfoy," she said with and prominence of disgust on Malfoy's name. Hermione was about to protest when Padma walked away from her. Hermione took a deep breath; she was too tired to think now, what she wanted was a goodnight's sleep in her sleeping quarters. She could imagine how soft the bed that was waiting for her in the upper level was. And the sooner she could get to Malfoy, the sooner she could get her rest. 

Hermione turned around and looked across the hall for a shock of silvery blonde. She did not have to look far for as she spun around, she saw Draco looking down at her with a raised eyebrow. She turned away immediately and started towards the stairs as Seamus and Padma met up with them. "This leads to our sleeping quarters," she said curtly still not turning to look at him. She kept her voice clipped and sharp. She had promised herself that any conversation to Malfoy from then on would be strictly about the project and nothing else.

"And so I've read, Granger I'm not blind," replied Draco bitterly as he followed the three of them up the stairway. He ran his fingers through his blonde hair, as he always did when he was in a stressed mood, and huffed resentfully.

As the four of them set foot on the spiral stairway, it started to turn and twist upwards until it disappeared up into the vaulted ceiling.

~~*

"D'you think Hermione'll be alright?" Harry asked Ron as he fondled a small flightless snitch between his fingers, which had been a gift from Hermione on his birthday; it came along with a book about the Magical Defenses of the Mind. He then tossed it into the air as he sat restlessly on the couch. Ron from across the enormous study of their quarters turned to him and said in a irritant voice:

"Yes, for the thousandth time, _yes_! Harry, when are you going to let this rest? I know you heard her at dinner, she said the could handle Malfoy."

Harry frowned. "I don't know," he replied thoughtfully, but he was not quite privileged to finish his thought as Ron cut him off.

"Well I do know. I know that you should rest and let Hermione worry about herself. Harry, you should be more worried about Neville, he's got three on his hands and Hermione's got—"

"Malfoy," Harry said resentfully.

Ron turned to Harry as he stopped giving his Nimbus 2000 a polish as a seriousness grasped his features.

"Right, Malfoy hasn't been as confident as he has been ever since his father got chucked in Azkaban last year hasn't he?" said Ron as he sat down on a red leather clad couch in front of Harry.

Harry stopped tossing the snitch up into the air as he gave Ron's statement a thought.

"You think it's all a game Harry?"

Harry looked at Ron with a watchful eye. 

"What do you mean?" He said slowly, examining the situation just as they were discussing it. Ron breathed in before he spoke; his tone grew lower as if he was afraid that they would be overheard.

"You know Harry… Malfoy's father got out only after three months, saying his arrest was all a load of misunderstandings. And Fudge, Fudge was stupid enough to believe him."

"Lucius Malfoy is a long friend of the Ministry, Ron. It's not a miracle that Fudge would let him loose this time, he did it the last time…" said Harry.

"Yeah I know but, this is … You-Know-Who were talking about, I don't think there are any exemptions, there is no way… Unless…"

"What are you thinking?"

"You think Fudge is getting matey with… with You-Know-Who, Harry?" said Ron fearfully. 

Harry scowled as he gave the idea more thought. That statement was by far the most logical piece of thinking that Ron has done in a long time. The idea was definitely possible but still with a load of flaws. 

Fudge was an enormous coward; he'd never take a risk to save his own life. The ridiculous way in which he behaved in their fifth year was only a plot to make him look more in control, more powerful. But in the end it did nothing of the sort, it only resulted in making him more vulnerable. He thought he looked up to the mark but by passing order after order of strict decrees, he only gave the wizarding community a chance to doubt him, and even defy him out of curiosity. The idea that Fudge would willingly give the power of the ministry to Voldemort, with a mentality that he would be spared was laughable. Making a deal with Voldemort holds no guarantees; one little mischief could leave you six feet under.

But what if Ron was right, thought Harry as he remembered Sturgis Podmore and Bode who were both controlled by Lucius Malfoy under the imperious curse when Voldemort sought to steal the prophecy about Harry and him from the Department of Mysteries. Voldemort could have easily put Fudge under his control if he wanted to. Who knows, the wizarding world could have been controlled by the Dark Lord for the last three months. And all the wizarding community were now sitting in fear of the Dark Lord's return seek comfort and insured security from the Ministry for help. What if the Dark Lord is now the Ministry? No, Harry hoped not. Somebody had to do something.

But Harry was not sure if the was that somebody anymore.

During his fifth year, he was told that he was someone who _'always tried to play the hero'. _He knew where that attitude got him… devoid of another loved one. Harry never felt so regretful in his life. After Sirius' death, he just wanted to blame somebody to rage on this person, the one responsible for him loosing his godfather. But then, he realized, he could never blame anyone else… but himself. Even Dumbledore's claim of most mishaps that happened never comforted him, because he knew it was his fault. If only he had tried to think for much longer before rushing off to the ministry, if only he had _listened_ to Hermione just for once and thought of all the possibilities before he rushed out of Hogwarts. And if only he had assured himself, that Sirius had really left Grimauld Place, if only he had chosen another simpler form of communication to reach Sirius. If only he had taken a minute, a mere moment to take the mirror and call for Sirius. If only he had studied with Snape a little more patiently, if only he could have blocked his mind. It was his fault no matter how he looked at it. It was none but him who lost Sirius to death. He had lost the only one who could have ever been a true parent to him then. The one that he felt, was the only one left. Now he was even more lost than he had ever been, he felt alone.

No, he would not jump to abrupt conclusions this time… Not if it would cause another life.

"Do you suppose its true Harry?" asked Ron.

Harry's line of thought broke suddenly and he turned to Ron. "No, Fudge isn't that foolish. His cowardice had dissolved his imprudence. If Voldemort, (Ron shuddered at the name) for heaven sakes," Harry glared at him for a moment. "As I was saying, if the Dark Lord chose to take control of the Magical world, I would bet my life that he would not be so secretive… this time."

Ron looked saddened for a while as he looked down. "I'm worried Harry," he started, looking up again "About mum, dad, Bill, Charlie, the twins… everyone. Half- my family's in the order, so is everyone who's always bothered for us, for you…"

Harry shared his sympathy; everything was because of him wasn't it? Yet were it not for him the wizarding world had not a chance of ridding themselves of Voldemort did they. Harry assured Ron that the magical world would eventually be rid of the infamous Dark Lord, yet he still did not say that he would be the one to vanquish him, to murder him. It was either that or he was the one who was to die. It was as the prophecy stated; _neither can live, while the other survives…_

"The order will hunt him down Ron."

"You-Know-Who is most unpredictable Harry, we're starting a war by hunting him down again," said Ron crinkling his nose. 

Harry shook his head, "You're wrong Ron," he said softly, "The war has already begun."

~~*

"This is a wonderful room!" exclaimed Padma as she and the others exited the encasement of the spiral stairway that led to their quarters. Seamus immediately followed her lead as they began scrutinizing the entire room that was immensely stupendous. 

Hermione left the encasement next with Draco following behind. She looked up immediately and was immediately awestruck by the height of the room before them. They descended the small staircase that led into a vast lounge that was the recessed center of the room they entered. A white-brick fireplace was set in the center of the room; it was surrounded with leather-clad couches and small glass tables with various glass trinkets set carefully on them. The walls of the lounge were a light marble shade; in the night-light; the white walls reflected a pale blue.

There in the far end of the lounge was a large bookcase with glass screens shielding the books. Hermione silently promised herself that before they left Brentenoux castle, she would have read all the books in that bookcase. All those articles of furniture were laid upon a black and brown carpet that graced the marble floor under their feet.

Looking up, she spotted another staircase leading up to a balcony, pretty much resembling the professor's office in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom back at Hogwarts. There were four doors aside each other by the balcony. Hermione was positive that their rooms were there. 

The ceiling, like the grand dinning hall, was enchanted to look like a midnight sky. It was lighted by numerous lamps with bluish flames that were floating up and down through the upper half of the room.

The white walls were adorned with paintings of French men and women. Judging from the clothing the people in these paintings wore; it was evident that they were done in the mid- seventeenth up to the eighteenth century. They were all clearly wonderfully done. The people in the paintings were smiling and waving at them greeting their arrival.

Hermione moved around the room like they all did, it couldn't be denied that Brentenoux castle had most of the luxuries unthinkable. None of them even tried to hide their amazement. Even Draco, who was endowed though clearly more discreet, looked about the room like he was swept in to a room of unsurpassable elegance. He looked struck as though his pride in his own rooms back at their manor was lowered. 

Hermione looked towards a door by the bookcase, she noticed not the door, but a beautiful painting beside it. It was a painting of a young girl, who wore a riding habit that made her look much older than she was. Though the mismatch was not such a pretty site, Hermione could not help but notice the scenery in which the girl was in. She was standing so tall and elegantly by a rose bush planted in front of a small tavern. But the tavern was barely seen in the picture, all that identified it was a wooden sign with 'Le _Pâté en croûte Rétréci' _printed roughlyon to it. The sight of the girl in the painting obscured her background, but Hermione saw something in the distance behind her. It was as if the tops of several towers were peaking out from her head.

The elegant brunette raised the numerous skirts of her purple riding habit and bowed to Hermione as she approached her painting, and spoke in a heavy French accent.

"Bonjour, Mademoiselle," she said smiling. Hermione smiled and bowed in a similar manner not eying her thoroughly but still trying to make out the milieu behind her. 

"Bonjour," said Hermione. The woman in the painting stood upright at her greeting raised a hand in welcome. She then opted to move out of the picture's spotlight and reveal to Hermione what she wanted to see. It was a painting of none other than the magnificent Brentenoux Castle. "Bienvenue au château de Brentenoux... Le hop I vous appréciez votre séjour ici" said the woman in the painting. Hermione stopped for a moment, trying to interpret what the painting said. She comprehended that the woman was saying more words of welcome to her.

"Merci," she replied sheepishly. 

Across the room Draco approached also another painting. This painting was one of a man who was dressed in a heavy woolen coat and a black scarf tucked into it. He was sat on a green velvet chair. He had sharp features and one of his brows was raised in an arrogant curve. Draco crooked his brows as he observed the man's face. He had the feeling that he had seen this gentleman before, although, he was not quite sure where…

The painting eyed Draco as well as he drew closer to the brass frame, which enclosed the man in the painting.

"Un si bon jeune homme vous êtes… Êtes-vous de sang pur?" said the man in a heavily deep voice that filled the entire room. His heavy tone attracted Seamus and Padma who were already on the balcony that led to their sleeping quarters. 

"What did he say?" asked Seamus as he and Padma leaned over the railing of the balcony and listened to the talking painting.

Hermione turned to them almost automatically and said, "Don't ask." She was also shocked at the painting's manner of judgment. She understood that he clearly said, _"Such a fine young man you are… are you of pure blood?" _to Draco as he approached the painting. How could he relate distinction with bloodline, honestly, it was such foul stance. Many people have become illustrious not because of their heritage and bloodline but because of who they were and what they did to make a difference. She looked at Draco whom she was sure would reply in an affirmative. 

''Certainement monsieur,'' said Draco who felt every bit as proud as he was supposed to be. He turned to Hermione whom he caught looking at him. She looked at him with a strange unsure _expression that told him that she did not like his confident answer. But why should he care what she thought, he was indeed a pureblood and he was proud of it.

Suddenly, the painting Hermione had previously looked at returned to the spotlight of her frame and looked towards the painting that Draco was speaking to.

"Oh, such a pity, Pierre here thinks zat all worthy wizards must be purebloods… I do not agree…," she said in a snotty tone keeping a watchful eye on the man in the frame across the room.

Hermione looked towards the frame as well and said.

"Oui... une telle pitié …"

Seamus and Padma took that exact moment to retreat to the rooms they were standing by. As if they were almost certain that, there would be a row in mere seconds. 

Draco did not take his eyes off Hermione; he met her gaze with one as hateful as the one she sent him. But Hermione could never really put on a hateful look… or at least she could never really hate Draco that much. Maybe because, she had seen a side of him he chose to keep hidden. But he would certainly not show that side now would he? Perhaps she hated him somehow; yes she hated him. She hated the side of him, which was so illusorily foul. 

Deciding that she could no longer stand the silence and the ill air of the room, Hermione looked away from him. It was a pity she did not catch him slightly wince when she broke their eye contact.

"And what do you stand for Granger? Your muggle bloodline, filthy scum… Unfit for anything in this magical world …" said Draco in a harsh tone. 

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him; she fixed a fiercer glare in his direction.

"Don't you dare bring my bloodline into this Malfoy! You, _what_ do _you_ stand for? Your heritage, which consists of nothing but foulness, tradition that bounds you to everything which defines evil. Is that what you stand for Malfoy?"

Draco's hands curled in to fists at her statement. "How dare you… you don't…" he said through gritted teeth.

Hermione's mouth curved into a mildly malicious smile.

"What's so funny?" demanded Malfoy angrily.

"It's just rather amusing to see you lost for words for once," she said slightly enjoying the sight of him frustratingly struggling to control his temper.

"You think you know me Granger. But you don't," he said icily.

"Oh, I don't think that Malfoy," said Hermione raising the tone in her voice slowly. "I don't think you even know yourself that much," she said. She opted to move towards the stairway and leaving him alone in the room. 

Yet, she failed to remember that he was too quick for her. In a mater of moments, he grabbed her arm just as she was to climb the stairway and pulled her so that she was forced to face him.

Hermione grimaced as a shock of pain shot through her arm. She had already began to feel the firmness of his grip on her. But she was determined to hide the pain she was feeling. 

"I'm glad to see that we agree on one point Granger," he said in a cruel voice. His grip on her only tightened and this time she could not help but let a tear fall from her closed eyes. 

"Don't… You are hurting me…" she said, unable to speak in a calm voice. 

"Don't tell me about pain Granger, I've known pain since I was a child," he said in a scathing voice that caused her to look at him anxiously. Through the torturous spasms that she felt shooting up her arm, she could not ignore the seriousness in his tone. She wondered; if he was really as spoiled and pompous as the whole world thought he was.

"Torment does not choose it's victims, it is by nature an emotion… we are meant to feel in an intensity," said Hermione before she could stop herself. "…at some point in one's life." 

Draco almost jumped at the shock of her words. He did not need a sermon now, though her words were more comforting than reprimanding. 

Her eyes shot open as he let her arm go all of a sudden. She looked up at him to reveal her pale face, her eyes which were teary. 

"Pain is insignificant," he said softly as he looked up at the vaulted ceiling, which created the illusion of the night sky. "Because I don't feel it anymore." 

Hermione straightened up a bit as she stroked her arm to relieve it from the pain. She looked at Draco slowly as he moved away from her and sought to sit on the leather couches by the fireplace. She did not take her eyes away from him as her curiosity grew. Malfoy was indeed a mystery, a person so undecipherable even to her. She wanted desperately to know what he really was, behind the mask he always wore. When she told him that even he did not know himself, he began to guiltily think that she was right. He wanted to hurt her because he was infuriated of the fact that she could so easily read him. 

"Nobody can stop feeling unless they're dead," said Hermione as she moved away from the stairs.

Draco turned to look at her. He met her gaze evenly with a steely look. His gray eyes were blank again, it was hard to believe that they were filled with emotion just a while ago. The pale outline of his face started to grow harder to make out as the floating candlesticks floated higher up into the ceiling of the room. "Eh?" he said with a raised eyebrow. He observed her silently as he held that thought. But he could not hold down another thought; he wondered what was in Hermione, that had him so painfully helpless every time they had a moment together, which was supposed to be as meaningless as a meeting between two people who didn't know each other? Yet it was true, they really did not know each other, Draco felt that they would never, really know each other. Simply because they never had to. What had she that any other pureblooded witch had not? How could he look upon her now, and feel anything but not hate? How could she look so innocent, so pure, so naïve standing there and not even being aware that she was hauling him into an abattoir of incessant emotion? Emotion that he was never supposed to feel in his life.

"Then perhaps I am," he continued quietly. 

Hermione took a step towards him and felt the strongest urge to throw her arms around him and hold him, to do anything, just to comfort him. She could not stop herself from trying to understand him. But it was beyond anything she could ever manage. Just the thought of doing so was unpleasant, the thought of comforting Malfoy made her swim in doubt of herself again. She had the feeling that she was betraying everything she had ever known, most importantly… herself. 

"You're what?" she asked meaninglessly already knowing what the answer would be.

Draco crossed the room and passed her with a swift grace. He gave off a mild scent that smelt like rain… cold, cold rain. Her heart sank as he passed her as if she was a post, she did not dare look back and sought to look at him again. But _he_ did.

He turned and faced her with her back to him. "Dead," he said coldly. Hermione closed her eyes, trying to understand how she felt. He was so bitter, but it seemed like it didn't matter to him anymore.

Draco turned to the stairs and climbed it without another word to her. His steps were silent, as if he were gliding rather than walking. And at the close of the door of the room that Draco entered Hermione opened her eyes turning to the stairs to enter the room she was assigned to as Draco had. She had a long-suffering emotion rising up in her, yet she could not ignore it. Because she knew now, it was real. 

~~*

A young redhead entered the Hogwarts library sullenly and after taking a large ancient looking book from the shelves, she took a seat in one of the far corners of the library. She was obviously unaware of the impending dangers that would soon befall her, and for that… 'He' was immensely grateful. 

He watched her now quietly mulling in silence as she studied a book in the quiet library, with nobody but herself. He tred silently on the stone floors of the library looking at the girl at every angle, wondering where she was most vulnerable. 

She, as we have said had no clue of what this stranger was up to. Her hair wild as if she had just come from the outside, her eyes concentrated heavily on the book she was reading. 

_He looked around… Nobody. His gaze trailed down to the neck of the young girl, vilely imagining a rope around that white neck of hers, or a knife through her slender jaw line… there were so many possibilities. 'Why use magic, when there were so many torturous muggle ways in which she could suffer more. _

_Now was the time… His hands craved to feel blood…_

_No, it was merely an opportunity. There was a time for everything and now was not it… not yet. She would meet her doom before she had the chance to figure out what misfortunes would meet the Boy Who Lived and his friends in Brentenoux… She would not even live to tell a soul. She was his. She would be his victim this time._

_He would make sure that this time… the dark would reign. _

~~*

Ginny turned her head for almost the tenth time as she sat by one of the oak tables in the old library. She looked towards the bookshelves behind her and also to her sides. There was nobody but a number of students standing by the shelves scanning the thick volumes for what they needed.

Breathing in silently, she had the feeling that somebody had been watching her ever since she entered the library. Just as she settled down, she felt a prickling feeling in her back like somebody was leaning over her shoulder. Yet when she turned, there was nobody. 

She returned to the large volume spread out before her forcing herself to concentrate; yet she just could not. Ginny began to remember the previous days, she had been feeling paranoid ever since the sixth years had left for France five days ago. She wondered if it was just on impulse that she had been left alone, or may be it was something else, maybe there was really someone there at Hogwarts castle that shouldn't be. Watching every single step she made… it was a possibility… yet there was always the question… why?

There was another thing that was bothering Ginny then. It was that wrenching feeling she felt in her gut, it was there ever since Ron and the others left. She thought at first that it was only normal to worry about them at first. But it had been five days since and something was not right. Ginny had no doubt at all that something was to happen, and it would happen sooner than anyone would ever expect. If only she knew what it was, where it would happen… she could warn them.

Just then Colin Creevy approached her table with an urgency in his features. She saw him and quickly stood up as she saw the anxiety that contoured his face in a frown. He was jogging quickly; it appeared that he had run from a long distance to reach the library. 

Ginny acknowledged him briskly yet he did not seem to hear her. He breathed out quickly and caught his breath.

"What is it?" she asked worriedly closing the book she was studying earlier. 

Colin took a breath in before he spoke. "We have to go, to the headmaster's office, now."

"What, why?"

"There's an intruder in the school," he said in a slightly hushed voice.

Ginny looked at him with a confused _expression. "What?" 

"A dark magic sensor was activated in the hallway leading to Gryffindor tower," said Colin. He ran a hand through his mousy hair as he looked around to see if anyone had heard.

Ginny's features grew grave. "But how? Surely a student could have… a Slytherin perhaps, no one can enter Hogwarts without being detected."

Colin slid around the table to talk to her more privately. He shook his head with a frown. "No, its not a student, Professor Dumbledore told the teachers, I heard them."

"What did you hear them say?" asked Ginny with slight worry in her tone.

"He says, it's not even human…" said Colin. Ginny breathed in. "What creature can do magic?" she asked. "Dark magic for that matter."

He said plainly that he had no idea. Ginny began to wonder if this incident had something to do with the odd feeling she had been getting all week.

She looked at him sharply, "How do you know this?"

Colin dropped his voice. "Dumbledore's calling a meeting between the prefects in ten minutes, secretly of course, I reckon he does not want to alarm the student body. We're not supposed to tell anyone either." 

Ginny bowed her head slightly. She wanted to ask so many more about the situation but she knew that it was dangerous to discuss the matter there. She gathered up her books and gestured to Colin. "Let's go then."

~~*

The enormous atrium of Brentenoux castle started to fill gradually as the sun rose higher in to the sky. Its glimmering vaulted ceiling, which was made of heavily impressed glass and crystal, reflected the bright sunrays that shined onto its roof. The large atrium was the brightest room in the castle. 

A long staff table could be perceived in front of the lines for students assembling in the room, from which the entirety of the Brentenoux Castle staff resided less Madame Morcenx who was preoccupied at Captieux, an annex manor of the Brentenoux castle said to be the largest.

Hermione was with Seamus and they waited apart from the crowd for Padma. Padma was still with Lavender and Parvati and they were in the dinning hall, supposedly eating dessert while they were actually checking out the many wizards who passed by the hall which were also of the castle staff. Professor Snape had summoned Draco for reasons unknown and would not attend the briefing that morning. 

"I have a feeling that this morning will be a blast," said Seamus who obviously hinted that Malfoy's absence would be the source of their glee. Hermione nodded apprehensively as she took a long albatross quill, a small ink tube, a book and some parchment from her bag. 

Just then, the last of the students entered the atrium, Padma among them she joined the group.

"Where are we off to?" she asked Hermione and Seamus

Seamus shrugged, "I have no clue… Do you?" he looked at Hermione.

"Sorry to disappoint you Seamus, but I don't," she said as she scribbled 'Siren' on one blank piece of parchment. Padma and Seamus put on false astounded looks as Hermione said this. She could not suppress a smile.

"And here we were thinking there was nothing you didn't know…" said Seamus.

"Hah, Very funny…" said Hermione.

Just then, Fleur who was sitting at the head of the staff table arose commanding attention. She was the center of the assembly of wizards and witches who occupied the seats of the table. The hall grew silent.

"Yes, now I see I have taken your attention, let us begin," she said in a magnified voice that filled the entire atrium. She was careful not to tread farther then behind the staff table as she could see that some sixth year boys were already looking at her with mouths open. "Ah, zis morning we shall be giving out portkeys for ze different groups in order so zey… you will be able to go to the areas of habitat in which ze various creatures you are assigned to may be viewed and studied of course, at a safe distance." 

The room started to fill with conversation. The build up of excitement was immensely quick.

"I think that we will begin the distribution of Portkeys in a minute but first, I would like to remind you of a few things that your teachers have told me to say to all of you before zey left this morning. First of all, the only hours you may be allowed to go to ze areas of habitat will be from ten o' clock to seven o'clock in ze evening." And with this, Hermione jotted down the schedule on a piece of parchment. Seamus and Padma looked at each other and smiled.

"Any students who will be caught still out on the castle grounds after this time will be reported immediately to the Professors or if zey are out of Brentenoux at zat time, zis offences may be reported to any of ze Brentenoux higher staff which you see before you.

"Professor Mc Gonagall has instructed me to tell you that any misconduct any of you will be caught doing will be a point against your total project grade as well as a house point deduction. Well, I do hope all of you will have a beautiful Friday morning; you all have the option to visit the wondrous areas of habitat you are assigned to, or else to visit the open fields of the castle. I'd like you to know zat zis day is not an official day for starting your study; it is up to you if you would like to take a tour of the castle grounds first. Although you must take utter caution if you choose the latter. The distribution of Portkeys will start now; choose only one representative to retrieve your portkey. Know that the Portkeys need all four members of your groups to work, Au revoir…" Fleur walked down the platform where the long table was situated and left the room through a door situated at the end of the room.

''I wonder if we should start our study today?" said Hermione thoughtfully. Seamus and Padma looked stricken.

"You know Hermione, we have the option," said Padma with a pleading smile. She had no plans to go off on that beautiful autumn day and work for their project. Seamus who nodded in agreement backed her up on the idea.

"Yes, and besides, the portkey won't work at all if were not complete," said Seamus grinning in the convenience of Malfoy's absence. Hermione didn't look too happy about that fact at all.

"Well, if it suits you I think a head start tomorrow could be arranged," she said hopefully. Padma smiled in triumph. 

"Wonderful, I'll retrieve the portkey," she said and she walked over to the staff table where amounts of seemingly useless trinkets were being distributed. 

"And I'll be off to our quarters, I think I'll be able to do some pre-calculations on the…" she stopped seeing that Seamus was not looking at all concerned on what she would be doing in their quarters.

He looked at her wondering why she stopped. "Do you need help?" he asked with a kind smile.

Hermione hesitated. She would hate to be alone in the den of their quarters without nobody to talk to yet she would not think that he would not be a fit conversationalist to talk about the anatomy of the typical Siren either.

"Oh, no. I'd rather you have fun," said Hermione. Seamus frowned as she sought to turn and leave the atrium. 

"Don't you want to have fun with us as well," he said feeling a twinge of guilt.

Hermione stopped. She never thought of leaving her work for fun, she wondered if she should. And then turned towards Seamus and smiled.

"I am going to have fun… In what I do best," she said and she left the atrium leaving him looking at her.

~~*

The halls of Brentenoux were enormous; they were winding and warren-like, confusing and intricate. Yet they were nevertheless wonderful and alluring. Even in the day the halls were enchanted. In the particular one Hermione was crossing, the ceiling was charmed to look like a faintly clouded, clear blue sky. She seriously felt like she was taking a walk outside on the grounds where everybody seemed to be today. Nevertheless, she thought, that there would be plenty of time for that when they finished the project early. 

Finally she crossed the corridor that lead to the grand dinning hall and into the wide doorway where their rooms could be found. The door to the left opened before her and she stopped before she entered. She looked down the long endless hallway filled with numerous doors and wondered what lay behind each of them. As she was sure that they were locked, she took her thoughts off them immediately and entered the circular room where the staircases were scattered throughout different areas on the edges of the room just as they were the previous night. She approached the one staircase that led to their quarters and stepped on to it. The staircase disappeared into the vaulted ceiling with her.

~~*

"I don't believe we're actually doing this," said Ron with an air of disbelief as he and Harry crossed the long landing leading to the Brentenoux Library. Paintings were eying them eerily as they walked.

"What, walking through this disturbing hallway or going to the library to actually study," said Harry as he shoved a hand in his tote bag leisurely.

Ron looked around at the hallway eying the paintings and suits of armor that graced the posts of the walls. He felt a baleful feeling that someone was watching them besides the paintings.

"Both actually," he said as he pushed Harry into a slow jog. "Hurry along, we might take too long and end up leaving this place at night." 

They strode into the library quietly and headed for one of the circular tables at the end of the large room. A stern eye from the white-haired librarian made Ron want to jump. Harry eyed the vast collection of books lining the shelves of every wall in the library, he was sure that they would be able to do their study later. For now there was still something he had to do.

"Are we seriously here to study?" asked Ron as he sat down in front of Harry. He took out a small book and laid it on the table. "Lavender gave this to me, it features almost everything about the Urisk."

Harry took the book, yet he did not motion to open it. "I really think we should make notes, but that's not really why we're here," Ron looked at him quizzically wondering what he meant. "You see I really came here to have a little chat with someone."

"Chat? You brought me here for a chat, with who might this 'chat' be with," asked Ron raising his eyebrows. 

Harry sought to answer him but then his gaze trailed over to the door and smiled welcomingly. 

Ron turned around to see Harry was looking at and almost swallowed his tongue, "F-Fleur?" he said weakly.

There, approaching them slowly with a dazzling smile and a radiant air was none other than Fleur Delacour. She was wearing a light blue robe and golden earrings the size of large curtain rings. 

"Harry, Ron. Such a pleasure to see you again," she said graciously as she took a seat between the both of them. Harry could see that her English was improving greatly as she could now pronounce his name properly.

"Hallo, Fleur," he said with an equally gracious air. "It's wonderful you came, really," Ron muttered inaudibly as Harry spoke.

"Well, I see you have grown in to a wonderfully handsome man," she turned to Ron and smiled. "So 'ave you, soon, you will be just like your brother." Ron looked up, he was sure she was referring to Bill. 

"Bill, are you still seeing him?" Ron asked, and Fleur nodded eagerly. 

"Qui qui, but I am afraid that we 'ad to take some time off each other for a while. So I decided to work here in ze meantime," Fleur observed Ron with curiosity; she could not help but think that the young Weasley was becoming more like his brother, as he grew older. Though she did not say it aloud, she knew for a fact what a Weasley looked like when he became embarrassed.

"Have you been to Carouges lately Fleur?" asked Harry wishing to stray the conversation to Lupin.

Fleur nodded and looked around casually before she spoke. "I 'ave most certainly, and I met wiz e old friend. I think you know who it was…"

"It was Professor Lupin, wasn't it?" said Ron with a mild anxiousness.

"Yes, it was. We met at a small tavern, and 'e…" Fleur smiled beautifully as if remembering the moment "…'e said zat it was e awful place to be at… especially for a woman such az me," she laughed mildly. Harry could see that she still was still as vainglorious as she was two years before. 

"I see Moony's charm hasn't worn off," Ron whispered to Harry.

"'e is indeed the charming creature…" she trailed off and looked around again. "'e asked me to give you something Harry."

"A letter."

Harry looked at Ron who already had a curious eye. Harry hadn't heard from any of the members of the Order of the Phoenix for a month, he wondered if Lupin's letter contained something other than reassurance and warnings. Though he doubted it, after his fifth year he doubted if he would ever find out anything reliable now that came from a letter, when it could so easily be intercepted.

"I zink, before I left 'e told me zat you might find something interesting about ze small note 'e sent you." 

"Do you have any idea of its contents?" said Harry impatiently. 

Fleur shook her head. "If you mean to ask if I read it, no… 'e meant to try an experiment, I zink, if anyone other zan you Harry opened ze letter, 'e would be cursed with sumzing unpleasant. I don't zink zat I shall take zat chance…"

"I zink I 'ave kept you waiting long enough…"

Fleur turned to him flaunting her blonde hair. She sought to reach into her bosom to retrieve a slightly crumpled brown envelope. Harry looked at the letter apprehensively. "But," she started as she stopped and looked around to see if anyone had seen. "Lupin 'as also told me zat you are only to read zis letter away from prying eyes," she said in a whisper. "Brentenoux castle is not exactly e safe place Harry…" 

Ron looked perplexed, yet Harry's eye was on the letter. "Don't worry, I won't," said Harry.

Fleur then placed the letter on the edge of the table and slid it in Harry's direction. "Good," she said with a smile. She stood up slowly and nodded at them both, "Take care, Harry and Ron," she said as she walked towards the library's doorway, soon she was out of sight.

Ron turned to see it she was gone. "Why didn't you tell me we were meeting her?" Harry smiled at him and then took the brown envelope and inserted it within the pages of Ron's book. 

"Shall we, hit the books?"

~~*

Hermione turned towards the large den as she walked out of the encasement of the stairway. The den was empty as she thought it would be. She looked up at the clear sky that could be perceived through the skylight of the room. It was such a wonderful day to waste… alone. Hermione frowned; she had chosen to study today after all. At least she could have lived by her word. She threw away what could have been a wonderful day out in the castle gardens.

Shaking her head she crossed the den and approached the door next to the bookcase. She had discovered the room beyond the doorway to be a small tearoom. It was moderately large, and a perfect place for studying alone. There was a wide stone balcony at the end of it, overlooking the west of the castle grounds, which comprised of the wide dragon fields and many other forests home to creatures unknown. 

She pushed open the door and looked up to find someone standing over the circular table filled with her notes and some books lying open. She had studied there the previous night and opened every single book from the bookcase in the den reading, taking down every single fact she could on the Siren. She hadn't expected that anyone else would enter the room.

Her eyes lit up in surprise as she eyed him carefully, unable to say a word.

"Contradictory to your findings, the legend of the sirens state that Melpomene is the mother of the four sirens, not the daughter, Thelxiope is the fourth daughter. I take it you wrote this last night," said Draco in a distant voice as if he was not addressing her at all. He had not even looked up to see he was speaking to the right person. It was as if he knew that she would enter the room before she did.

Hermione shook her head after a short silence and her thought strayed to what he had just said. She tried to remember what she had read the previous night and realized her mistake. She approached the table and looked through up her notes briskly staring at the error he had spotted.

Hermione frowned slightly. She had indeed pointed out Melpomene as the siren's daughter.

Draco turned away from the table and opened the glass door towards the stone balcony surveying the wonderful landscape with less enthusiasm than it deserved.

"I believe it was late when I wrote this," she said as if she refused to accept her fault. Hesitantly, she added: "But…thank you… for pointing it out…" He did not turn to look at her but she could imagine that he was smirking. It must have been fun to find a flaw in Little Miss Perfect's notes. "Listen, the official study starts tomorrow, somewhere in the far end of the West Mountains. We'll be going by portkey. I trust you'll be there," she continued not leaving a second for silence.

Draco turned to her and raised an eyebrow. He looked at her restless form in pleasure, he was sure that she would not rather be there at that moment. "I have no choice, Granger. I don't think I would be mad enough to trust my grade in your hands for a second…" he said nonchalantly. He studied her carefully, and found that she was unable to meet his gaze. She did not know whether to take his comment as an insult or not.

"Malfoy," she stared stiffly. "I'd think that if you left your grade in my hands, you'd be far off better," she said as she turned back to her notes. He took a few steps towards her as she placed her notes on a neat pile on the table. She closed all the books that lay open and looked up in time to see him studying her at a propinquity she had not expected. Hermione stood up straight unable to take her eyes away from his. She had a strong feeling urging her to move away, to leave… yet, she had an even stronger feeling to stay and lose herself in his emancipating gaze. 

"You know, there's really nothing either the both of us can gain if we continue on pretending like the other does not exist…" she said softly breaking off. He looked at her and nodded slightly.

"Seeing as there is no reason for us to pretend so," he said with a final tone. She turned away from him and nodded. A mild blush was starting to appear on her white cheeks as she felt her heart pulsating quicker and quicker by the second. Draco seemed to observed this as he took a careful step away from her. 

"I think there's nothing wrong with a civilized conversation … once in awhile, considering that this project will be an outright disaster if we don't…" she said softly as she looked up to meet his gaze once again. He looked at her bright eyes staring innocently at him; he could not help think that she looked much like an angel. And how it would feel if he could have everything she had. Her untainted nature was something he could have died for, maybe, if he were not thinking right. Pretty much like he was doing so at that moment. 

"Yes, nothing at all" he said in a harsh tone still not taking his eyes off her.

Draco suddenly felt inclined to approach her once again, even to touch her. He wanted to remind himself that she was real, because that moment felt so unexplicably unreal. An unnerving feeling in his gut did not go unnoticed. He wondered like so many times before what was in her that possesed him so easily. What gave her the right to even try to break him, out of the shell of a mask that he had worn all his life. With all the lessons in his life that his father had willed him to learn, he was supposed to think that she was undeserving, unworthy of him, yet he somehow knew that it was he who didn't deserve her.

She was all he could never be... she was so painfully real and true and he... he could not even figure out what he was anymore. If he was living in an illusion or if he was living how life should be lived, by everything his father had laid before him. She was supposed to be a lie, yet she unknowingly opened his eyes to the truth... every time she looked into his eyes. Everytime she tried to read him.

But he was the lie, or so he thought that she was far closer to the the truth than he could ever be. 

He took that small step towards her, his gaze hardened and she could not help but shudder. He broke their eye contact as she breathed in suddenly. He looked at her slender jawline, absentminedly imagining that he was tracing it with his fingers, imagining the soft feel of it, remembering that moment in Professor Figg's office where he had first done so.

Hermione struggled to reach the table as he stepped towards her. His eyes looked at her with such an unimaginable emotion that she could not hold herself up any longer. She could not ignore the rate at which her heart was beating, she did not know why he had that effect on her but she knew that no one could ever arouse such feelings in her other than him.

He was so mysterious, so distant that she did not know what to think of him. All those five years she had known him, she had set her opinion of him as someone not to be trusted, someone, vile, evil and indifferent. But she knew that in those five years, she only thought she knew him, she only thought thinking of him as an unpleasant brat from a dark family was enough she needed to know. But she didn't know him, she had hated him because of what he made himself look like in front of everyone. But now, she looked at him and could not bring herself to hate him fully. For she knew he was something more than what he seemed. As she looked at him, he looked back, with a warmth she never thought him capable of ever showing. 

His eyes, grey and almost black, seemed like an endless pool of nothingness. Now those eyes betrayed him completely, because he looked at her with unexplainable sentiments he was never supposed to reveal.

He had a personality that no one ever tried to unlock, because they never knew of its existence. Yet if they did, they would never dare try to know it. Hermione began to wonder if anybody would ever.

Their gazes met again. Like fire and ice, they clashed together in an unpredictable conflict. And suddenly, as she looked into those silver pools of ice she had come to know so well, she knew what she wanted. She longed to know him, she longed to see him as he really was. As he could have appeared if not hidden behind all the curtains of lies that he had wrapped about himself. 

Her heart was beating at its peak, as if it was screaming, suffering, holding in something for so long. 

He leaned towards her, as if aware of all the thoughts that were raging through her head. He stopped realizing in some small sense that if he did as he was to do, he would accomplish nothing but to let her break him. It the end his pride was always the victor.

Draco looked away from her with an effort that it shouldn't have taken and found that stepping away from her was harder. He felt like he was burning as he drew himself away from her. It was as if he needed her to live. Yet if that were true, Draco was not sure if he wanted to live anymore. He turned towards the door and opted to exit the room but not before turning and saying in a rather harsh tone,

"Tomorrow... I'll see you Granger," and he left.

Hermione turned to the door just as it closed. She wanted so much to understand what was happening, it was like an impluse of knowing suddenly rushed over her senses. But she didn't know what was. She could not say a word about what it was, and even if she could, she was sure that it would not even be true. 

Hermione looked away from the door and sat down on the chair behind her bussing herself with her notes. Yet for a moment, she could not help but ask...

What had she gotten herself into?

~~* 

_A long and silent street_

_I walk in blackness and stumble and fall_

_And rise, and I walk blind, my feet _

_Stepping on silent stones, and dry leaves_

_Someone behind me also stepping on stones, leaves_

_If I slow down, he slows_

_If I run, he runs._

_I turn; nobody_

_Everything dark and doorless_

_Turning and turning among these corners_

_Which lead forever to the street_

_Where nobody waits for, nobody follows me,_

_Where I pursue a man who stumbles _

_And__ rises and sails when he sees me; nobody…_

_~Octavio Paz_


	7. Réveil

_Things I didn't really need  
but how I wanted so  
What a nice dream  
Didn't want to wake up  
So I kept it dark all the time  
Dark enough so not to see  
But not as dark as the plans that you have for me_

__

_Chapter Seven:__ Réveil_

The Grand Dinning hall of Brentenoux castle rang with the voices of the sixth years conversing and indulging in their morning feast.

''Ron, please pass the meat pie,'' said Lavender from across him also sending him a dazzling smile. Ron took the pan that contained the pie and passed it to her returning her smile.

''God, this is impossible,'' said Harry looking at Ron's love struck face groaned in mock disgust.

Ron looked at him and grinned.

"I agree Harry," said Ron "now, let's hope that you find someone of your own." He gestured over at Hermione who was sitting beside him, too indulged in reading one of her thick volumes to see him. Harry caught Ron's gesture and glared at him. He could not stop himself from blushing slightly as he turned to look at Hermione. It was not anything new that Ron teased him about Hermione; yet, it was also that which worried Harry. Surely, friendship and only friendship would be their relationship for life would it not? Harry could not expect anything more, for he would rather not take any chance at all than to risk loosing Hermione's friendship. No, Hermione meant enough to him to let anything change between them.

Lavender gave a vivacious laugh. "And if you think so Harry, why don't you find someone to fulfill your impossibilities with you… I think I know just the one," she said with a smile.

 "I don't really think that's…," argued Harry.

"Possible? Hah, anything's possible if one would try…, " replied Lavender still eying the oblivious Hermione. "Am I not right Ron?"

"Mhmmph," said Ron, his face completely stuffed by pie.

Harry grinned, "Funny, I'd thought that you would have found a better companion to affirm with you so I would actually even just try to believe you."

Lavender could not help but laugh.

"Hey!" said Ron, catching on rather late. Harry laughed as well, something he hadn't done in a long time.

Just then, the hall lit up as the glass windows near the ceiling cleared open along with a sound of flapping feathers. Various owls started to fill the grand dinning hall and they were dropping mail all over the tables.

"The mail's here," said Seamus as he stood up to catch the small brown parcel that an owl dropped over his head. Harry looked up as well, looking out for Hedwig, though he doubted if he would get any mail there. Harry remembered silently that he had neglected to read Remus' letter since the day before; he made a mental note to definitely read it as soon as they returned to their quarters at the end of the day from wherever their group was off to.

Hermione looked up as well and just in time to catch the owl that delivered the daily prophet to her every morning.

"Second lucky catch," she said with a smile. Lavender nodded, "Yes, yesterday it almost headed straight for my goulash."

Hermione inserted a couple of knuts in the small leather pouch of the owl and set it off towards the large high windows of the hall. She opened the wrapped parcel and unwrapped the newspaper eventually opening it up to read it.

"I guess all our spite for the daily prophet is gone now, it might be of some use to us, anything good in there, Herm?" asked Ron. Hermione shook her head as she continued to scan the pages for articles.

Harry turned to Ron. "It should be of some use to us, because we're definitely going to need some news on what's going on in England while we're here," said Harry. Ron nodded.

Suddenly Hermione's eyes widened as she placed down the newspaper urgently on the dinning table. A number of people looked at her curiously as she stared at the open page in shock.

"H-harry!" she managed to say as she turned to him beside her. Harry stood up from his seat and rushed over to her side to see what shocked her. He turned to look at the open page and drew his breath at the headline. He looked at Hermione who still stared at the headline. It was only then when she closed the front page to look at the headline that she saw what was written. She had always known that if there were any articles that would be of any use to them that it would be on the inside that was why she neglected to look at the front page.

"Harry, its--its horrible!" Hermione gasped. Ron and the others were starting to get curious as they stood to look at the front page of the Daily Prophet.

"What's going…" started Ron. Neville stood up to look as well, and so did Seamus and Dean. "Oh no…"

For there, clearly set in black impact capitals was the headline **"MASS MUGGLE-BORN MURDER IN ****MANCHESTER****"**.Under the caption wasthe image of many robed wizards standing by a large structure observing local muggle police officers in the process of recovering evidence from the scene. A task that would be next to impossible if the murders were done by magic.

Everyone's eyes were now on Harry as he stared at those words beaming up at him. He couldn't believe it. He refused to believe that Voldemort had nothing to do with it.

"Hermione, read it, read the article," said Lavender also staring at the newspaper in curiosity.

Hermione turned to the sentences written on the page wondering prompting to read it at once.

"Yes, of course…"

'On the night of October fifth of this year, the muggle community was baffled by the deaths of nine personnel at a local residence in Manchester, known as Llandaff hall only a short distance from the Bridgewater Concert Hall. A source immediately identified the casualties in connection with the magical world and the Ministry of Magic positively identified all nine dead as Muggle-born wizards. They were identified as…"

said Hermione choosing to skip the listing, seeing nobody amongst the list that they would know in apprehension. "Ah, here we go…"

            The aurors dispatched to the scene after the muggle police force had halted their unproductive search, had found numerous traces of the death curse, _Avada Kedavra_, and also several of the Cruciatus curse, positively identifying the deaths as magically influenced.

            The Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge has declined to comment on the matter…"

Hermione broke off concluding that the last few paragraphs were insignificant. She turned to Harry who had an unmistakable look of suspicion. "They were muggle-borns, all of them."

"How could it have happened?" said Lavender in anxiousness. "I mean, they must have had some idea."

Ron shook his head. "They were muggle-borns. They died because of their heritage, it's too unfair." Harry agreed, he had no doubt at all that it was Voldemort, if not one of his minions who had done this immensely horrible act. He turned to Hermione who had gone a little bit pale; he had sensed her fear in an instant.

"Harry," she started uncertainly. He looked at her in a serious fashion. "They were murdered… for no good reason… "

"Hermione… no… I swear, nothing will happen to you," said Harry in attempt to comfort her. "As long as we're here."

"It doesn't matter where we are," she said growing teary-eyed.

"You-know-who's behind this."

"There's no doubt," said Lavender.

Hermione turned to her. "No, I think someone else…I mean, how can he get around without getting spotted?"

"Your right," Harry said thinking of only one person who could act under Voldemort's influence.

"You're not talking about Wormtail?" asked Ron now looking at Harry seriously.

"Harry…You don't think…" started Hermione, her expression was growing grave. "Bellatrix… Bellatrix Lestrange," she shook her head. Yes, it had to be her. Pettigrew committing murder was still too obscure. He was an immense coward.

"Yes, her," said Ron. Harry was beginning to look grave, feeling the anger he had been suppressing all summer.

"I have to know where she is," said Harry stiffly; Hermione could sense his rage almost all to easily. "Then I'll…"

Hermione reached for his arm and he looked at her. "You will not do anything of the sort," she said firmly. Harry's expression softened slightly as he caught the look in her eye "Bellatrix Lestrange will be caught, it will not be long now," she said determinedly.

Harry breathed in. He wanted so desperately to believe her, but the chances… they were so dwindling. All summer he had kept to himself, haunted by Sirius' death, forcing himself to accept the fact that his godfather was gone, trying to believe that he was not afraid that he was now alone. All the time wanting to take revenge on the person who robbed him of the only one who could be closest to a parent to him. He looked at Hermione and then saw her eyes, which looked back at him pleading with him not to be irrational. That was almost enough for Harry to draw back, out of his anger and cease to act, just for her. Almost. "You're… you're right," he said calmly.

"She won't stop, she's a murderer," said Neville unexpectedly. The group turned to him and listened. It was already known among them what Bellatrix Lestrange and her husband had done to his parents, and unlike before, he didn't attempt to cover the fact up.

"Neville," said Hermione with a sympathetic look, remembering their last Christmas at St. Mungo's with a tinge of sorrow for her housemate.

"She'll go on killing people, and she'll serve the dark lord, along will all the others. Just like she did to me mum and dad," he continued.

"Yes, but we can't go on playing the hero's again,' said Hermione. "We have to think, and we'll fight when we have to."

They all nodded. "We'll all fight when it comes to it," said Seamus looking at Harry. Harry turned to them and was instantly thankful for their support. More than ever he was grateful for his friends. Looking at Hermione, he realized he was most thankful for her.

Lavender looked around, she observed that the almost all the people in the hall were starting to look at them, the Slytherins most especially.

"Keep it down a bit, the Slytherins are looking at us," she said as they started to take their seats.

"I think they know what we're fussing about," she said. Hermione looked at the Slytherin table and she could see that almost all it's occupants were eying their end of the Gryffindor table.

"It would not be a mystery if they did," replied Ron as he urged his girlfriend not to look at the Slytherin table.

"Just settle down," said Harry. Hermione nodded.

"I think the discussion of this matter is for another time," said Hermione and the group returned to their breakfast.

Draco entered the grand dinning hall a little late that morning. He headed towards the Slytherin table and took his seat beside Blaise. She turned to him almost instantly and he knew he was in store for a morning inquisition.

"What kept you?" she asked mildly, not wanting to be overpowered by his stubbornness once again.

Draco breathed in calmly. "The weather here is so blatantly depressing. I hated getting out of bed," said Draco plainly as he indulged in his meal nonchalantly. It was an unbelievable reason, he knew that, but he also knew that the last thing she would do was to question him further.

Blaise turned back to her food as well eventually taking a sip of cherry juice finding she had lost her appetite. Draco had that effect on her; she found it irritating that she could not indulge in a meal while he was around. Though she did not pester him any further about his tardiness, she knew that his reason was shallow, and probably not true, but she did know better.

"Perhaps a note from home will cheer you up," she said knowing the mere statement was nonsensical to him. Draco snorted, "Perhaps that, will make me no less more depressed."

Blaise took her napkin off her lap and casually wiped her mouth. She leered delightfully, "You'll never know."

Draco turned to her with a quizzical look. "There's something you know, that I don't?" Blaise laughed lightly. "Perhaps," she said smiling.

"Oi! Malfoy!" Draco turned behind him and saw Malcolm Baddock heading towards the table with an anticipating look. "Have you heard the news?" Draco raised an eyebrow and turned to Blaise. She nodded with a mild smile.

"Am I, in this stance perhaps the only one who does not know?" he asked. Blaise looked at Malcolm and smiled, "Oh Malcolm, don't spoil my fun," She caught Draco's hand and squeezed it affectionately. He took a breath as she did so; he had almost forgotten how much she enjoyed playing games with him, and how much it pleased her when he played along. "Draco will find out in his own right, which is approximately… thirty seconds from now," she said.

Malcolm took the empty seat beside Draco and turned to the couple, "You look disgustingly romantic, I don't know how you can keep it up in this weather," he said with a sneer.

Draco turned to him with a smirk "Perhaps you need to find someone to be romantically disgusting with Baddock, I know," he then turned to Pansy whom he caught gawking at him and was looking startled at Draco's sudden attention to her. "Parkinson's free," Malcolm and Draco laughed as Pansy pulled out of her chair and marched angrily out of the hall flaunting curly blonde hair all the way thinking it would look appealing.

"Malfoy, I wouldn't hit on her if she was the only girl left," said Malcolm. "You know as well as I do Malfoy that Pansy is nothing but a pompous whore, who'd probably not refuse a good screw with Goyle if he asked her," Draco laughed as he turned towards Pansy who was still marching haughtily out the door. "That is _if_ he asks her," Malfoy and Baddock laughed again and Blaise could not help but smirk. Blaise pouted at Draco mockingly, "Darling, that wasn't very nice..."

Draco looked at her in mock shock, "Since when do you consider 'nice' among your virtues sweetheart?"

Blaise smiled at him and he turned up at the ceiling as the glass windows vanished in the distance. She looked back at Draco "Since I started to understand how she actually felt... now cut your fuss, the mail's here," And it was, the owls started charging into the hall with various parcels and letters clutched in their claws. Draco looked up in time to see his own eagle-owl circling about him before he dropped a brown envelope which he caught before it fell into his soup bowl. He caught Blaise nod at Malcolm as if they were waiting for him to open the envelope. Blaise nudged him slightly when he stopped.

"I swear Draco, if you burn this one..." she said. He turned to her and then back to the envelope. It was sealed with the Malfoy seal, a definite indication that the letter had come from his father. "Go on, open it," said Malcolm. Draco opened the envelope finally and emptied its contents onto the table. Two pieces of paper fell out of the envelope and the other one, as Draco observed, was an article, a cut out from the latest issue of the Daily Prophet. He picked it up and read the headline. After a few moments he turned to Blaise who was smiling.

"Your aunt, she is definitely cunning, isn't she. It's wonderful, the world's less mudblood congested," said the Slytherin girl. Draco nodded confidently.

"Quite," he said with an air of thought. His thought steered immediately why his father would want him to know something like that when he would inevitably find out about it, one way or another. His mother's sister, Draco never really got to know her, he had no doubt that she was definitely behind the murders. She seems to fashion killing as if it is a sport, the perfect deatheater as his father has always said. Yet he wondered why his father had an immense confidence in her, it was not like they shared that much special relation except for the distant family ties of course. His chain of thought was interrupted but the screeching of a chair from across the hall. He narrowed his eyes; Potter had just stood up from his seat and headed over to Granger who was peering over the table. Just then, a number of Gryffindors stood up as well leaning over the table and looking at the object of commotion. Draco looked back at the article cut out; it was then that he realized it. He remembered what his father had told him the summer before. It was Bellatrix Lestrange who led Sirius Black to his death last June. She was the one Harry Potter now hated vehemently for robbing him of yet another loved-one, the one, his mother had said to be one of Potter's closest relation to a parent. That was it; that was definitely it. Draco knew Harry Potter for his recklessness, he was sure that Bellatrix Lestrange's latest accomplishment was an occurrence that would urge him to go chasing after the deatheaters once more. But Draco was sure that it was not yet enough, he was sure that his father knew just as much. There would have to be another step, another even that would provoke Potter. There were still missing pieces of the puzzle. He knew that Lucius plans would soon commence, he was almost too sure that they would while they were in Bretenoux, his father wanted him to be aware of this.

"It will not be long now Malfoy, my father has also sent word," said Malcolm confidently. Draco nodded and returned to his line of thought. "Aren't you thrilled?" he asked further noticing the nonchalant manner in which Draco conducted himself.

Draco looked up not really acknowledging Malcolm's statement. "Maybe not," he said. Malcolm frowned. Draco observed the group of Gryffindors discreetly as they seemed to be exchanging statements before they sat down eventually. Blaise who grew rather curious about what he was thinking squeezed his hand again catching his attention. "Open the letter Draco," she said quietly eying the other folded piece of paper which lay on the table.

Draco, who seemed suddenly reminded of it took it up and cut the wax seal and unfolding it. He read its contents.

            Draco,

            I do hope that the piece of information I have bequeathed to you has now actively caught your attention. In case that you have ceased to read the Daily newspaper merely because you are miles away from me. I'd have you know my dear son that I am not yet contented with your decision to affirm with my plans. You have made it entirely too difficult to communicate with and for that know that there will come a consequence.

            There is unfortunately one thing more that I have not put into consideration, something that is lacking. I am sure you have figured this out by now and the most rational thing I would want you to do is to find what I am searching for. I often believe that action speaks louder than words, and I demand of your utmost action in rapidness.

            Another point must be taken here Draco, I am also sure that you are now aware of the message I intend for you to discern, which is why I demand of you to be of great purpose to our cause. I trust we have come to an understanding, my son.

Father

He stared at the letter for a few moments as he thought. There was only one thing that his father desired of him right then and that was his cooperation. '_Well, father, that also comes with a consequence,' _he thought hatefully. Draco looked up from the letter and tore it up savagely. Blaise gasped.

"Draco!" she exclaimed.

He turned to her and smirked. "Just getting rid of evidence my dear," he said lightly. "It would not do for people other than us to read this sort of thing now would it?"

Blaise nodded submissively. There was no doubt that Draco did not mean that at all, she could only fear for the occurrences that would befall him if he continued to bear the indifference he so fervently felt for his father.

Hermione was in the process of stuffing a number of parchments in her bag when she stepped out of the room she had grown accustomed to studying in. She looked up in time to see Draco leaving his room from the staircase. She caught his eye as he opted to walk down the landing and turned away almost instantly. Draco descended the steps calmly surveying the den trying to ignore the fact that she was in the room. He headed over towards the couches and sat down on one. He retrieved a pair of leather gloves from his pockets and then proceeded to put them on.

Hermione turned around to see Draco sitting fitting his gloves casually. She found the sight rather amusing as he pulled up the left glove. She wondered how in the length of his childhood how delicately the Malfoy heir was treated, so delicately that he had to be fitted with fine leather gloves to keep him from soiling his hands.'_The luxurious handling of him must have been quite_ _immensely,'_ she thought, considering how spoiled he had grown up to be. As she thought those very words, the gods were laughing. She did not know how wrong she was.

"Where are Patil and Finnegan?" he asked casually looking up at her. Hermione who had not expected his attention was unable to hide her look of surprise. She looked at him and could not be reminded of his father who was a less than pleasant man to be around. She closed her eyes, trying to suppress the sickening vision that became her at that moment, the image of nine slain muggle-borns on the floor of an old house. She was immediately reminded that Bellatrix Lestrange, who might have possibly murdered the muggle-borns was indeed Draco's aunt.

"Seamus is on his way he's gone to send a letter to his mum, Padma has gone to take the portkey," she answered bluntly as Draco got off the couch and approached her offhandedly. He looked at her carefully as she turned away from him again. It did not take a fool to notice that he was making her uncomfortable, and for that he delighted in doing so. But as he gazed at her form once again, her brown hair flowing down her back, her delicate creamy complexion seemingly glowing in the morning sun, he realized that the discomfort in each other's presence was something else they shared in common. Draco frowned; he knew that it was not something he should be thinking about at the moment. He tried so desperately to embed in his thoughts that she was nothing to him. Nothing…

"Let us hope Finnegan does not get lost, probably doesn't get to live in places like this always spending time in his wee little house with his mum," said Draco with a tone of mockery. Hermione frowned.

"I'm sure he will manage Malfoy," she said firmly. He turned to her and could not help but be amused. Here was a girl who could contradict him so easily, he wondered about her again like so many times before, secretly wanting to figure her out. _No,_ he thought violently as he gathered his composure once again.  

"Oh yes…" said Hermione turning to Draco. She unclasped the grip on her bag and pulled out a book. She handed the book to Draco, he recognized it as the French book he lent her almost three weeks before. Draco retrieved it and tossed it into the air.

"Evanesco," he said and the book vanished.

Hermione breathed in, "It was indeed an purposeful reference," she said matter-of-factly walking a few steps from him towards the center of the den. "And in addition, I found that…" she trailed off, wondering if she should continue. "… You were right." She said finally. "It indeed served as a good French lesson," Draco could not suppress a smirk.

"I thought I have made the impression Granger wherein doubt was not supposed to be an object of matter with me," said Draco with an air of pride. Hermione could not help but be annoyed by this.

Hermione turned to him and raised an eyebrow, "So you have Malfoy? I've always thought otherwise," she said. Draco smirked, "Well, perhaps Granger, it is the fact that you have not yet learned to trust me."

"Well, that is definitely a useful thing to learn," Hermione retorted with sarcasm. She thought that no matter how desperate she would become, she would never, ever, learn to trust Draco Malfoy. She was under the impression that she was beginning to lose trust in herself because of him, let alone trust him. "Why should I waste my time learning that sort of thing?"

"Perhaps not to your tastes," said Malfoy coolly.

There was a sound of a voice clearing from the balcony of their room and Draco and Hermione's attentions were immediately cut as they looked up to see who was there.

"Padma!" said Hermione in surprise. She had a hard time acknowledging the fact that their little 'conversation' was overheard. "How long have you been standing there?" she asked turning away trying to hide the mild blush that was starting to appear on her cheeks. She suddenly found the white bricks of the fireplace interesting.

"A while," said Padma as she descended the staircase with a blue marble globe in her hands.

"Where's Seamus?" she asked.

Draco snorted. "Possibly lost, he isn't very smart is he?" he said. Padma glared at him.

"He was off to the owlery, he said he had to send his mum a note before coming here," replied Hermione as she refastened her bag. "Let's go wait in the hall," she said as she headed towards the encased stairs. Padma caught up with her and Draco trailed behind.

"I don't understand where he could be," said Padma as she walked across the hallway towards the Grand Dinning hall. Hermione followed her with Draco as they entered into the dinning hall. It was empty as she could see, and that was definitely no surprise. She reckoned that most of the students have already left the castle to start searching for the dwelling places of their assigned creatures.

"Perhaps, we should hurry and look for him," said Hermione in a tone of agitation. She certainly did not want to be behind on group work. In addition, she also could not deny the fact that her sense of adventure was also one of the things that made her apprehensive of their forthcoming task.

"Needless, here comes the fool right now," said Draco in a low tone that only Hermione heard him. Her annoyance of him grew a bit more at his statement.

Looking up, Seamus entered in from the door opposite the one that lead to their chambers. Hermione smiled in relief. "Oh Seamus, we we're beginning to worry."

Seamus smiled in apology, "Sorry mates, but I got a little lost. Blimey this castle is huge, the owlery was on the fifth floor," he said. "The paintings aren't very friendly either."

Draco smirked. "Surprise of the century," he said eying Padma who looked embarrassed. Hermione coughed to hide her mild laugh. "I think we should go," she said.

Padma drew out the marble ball from under her cloak and displayed it in the center of the four of them. "Right," Hermione was the first to touch it, then Seamus and finally Draco, which activated the portkey. Within less than a second, the grand dinning hall was empty once more.

Leaving the prefect hall in less than a perfect mood, Ginny felt the greatest intuition of uneasiness in the past few days. A number of thoughts were boggling in her mind. As she held the brass knob of the doors she instantly was reminded of the occurrences of the past days. Picking up the oil lamp she had set on the floor, she also withdrew her wand from her robe pocket in readiness. She crossed the hallway with briskness trying to ignore the lingering qualm that ran through her veins.

Dumbeldore had been calling on them for two days now, yet still there was nothing new. The teachers were apparently baffled on the incident of the past days and though they seemed perfectly calm about everything, the entire prefect body could sense their apprehension. The Hogwarts staff was still incomplete as Professors Figg and McGonnagal still remained in France with the sixth years, they were not due for return until the next day. Dumbledore and the rest of the teachers had nothing but words of warning for the prefect body. In addition, they were in charge of reassuring their housemates, that nothing was going on even though it was obvious that there was. In Ginny's opinion, it looked strange that in all Dumbledore's hundred fifty-six years, it was at that very occasion when he chose to let his worry become disclosed. Surely, she thought hopefully, the school must have been in more peril than this, or perhaps not.

Ginny turned another empty hallway and her uneasiness grew once more. It was only a few hallways away from the staircase going to the Gryffindor tower but the fact that almost all the hallways were deserted was starting to scare Ginny out of her wits. Dumbledore had set a new curfew for the students to their dismay; it was an injustice to them not knowing the reason of the imposition of this new curfew. But it was not in the line of the prefects to tell the student body this reason. They had been forbidden, at all costs to reveal that there was a dark force lingering within the walls of the school. Ginny, along with the other prefects wondered why Dumbledore had allowed prefects of the Slytherin house to attend the meetings when they could be the sources of the school's chaos when it would be likely that they would be the ones who revealed the situation. Like many of the Gryffindor prefects, Ginny also believed and feared that Dumbledore's trust of the Slytherins would indeed be a fatal mistake in time.

Ginny now found herself out in the hallways alone due to some errands Cho Chang had her do. With her being the head girl Ginny could hardly argue though she wanted to. Ginny was beginning to feel the indifference Cho felt for her, being her boyfriend's ex-girlfriend that is. Ginny couldn't believe that Cho and Michael Corner were still going out, she'd had thought that they'd get sick of one another by then. Well, anyway, it didn't bother her; it was just Cho's mild resentment of her, which was her problem.    

Taking another deep breath, Ginny braced herself to turn yet another corner, the last one finally, as she decided that thinking about Cho Chang was definitely not a comforting thought while crossing creepy hallways like she was now. She took one last step and turned towards the hallway, which was set before her.

Stopping abruptly, she looked ahead to see a pair of gleaming eyes, which was eerily illuminated by the torchlight staring at her.

Ginny's pulse quickened as she let out a long lingering scream.

"Where are we?" asked Padma as she turned around eying the eerie trees that surrounded them in every direction. It had been a few minutes that the four of them had been walking around the vicinity and they were rather uncertain of the paths to be taken. They had appeared in woodland clearing which seemed well in the middle of nowhere. They had entered the forest almost immediately after and were now trailing a narrow pathway.

Hermione looked around and observed the place they were in. They walked a little farther in to the distance and found themselves in another clearing, which allowed a larger amount of sunlight to penetrate the forest ground than did the thickets of the eerie forest. Hermione knelt on the ground while she unpacked her bag. "There's something here, I know I made some notes."

Padma turned towards the grove ahead and frowned. "I don't think there'll be anything in those books about this creepy woodland," she said. "It's unmapped, I think."

"And so is Brentenoux," said Hermione as she rummaged through her bag. "But Brentenoux is plotted within its own grounds which means the only records of its location in within its walls. That's what its library is for."

"Which also means that the grounds surrounding the castle must also be plotted for the castle itself to be mapped," continued Padma. Hermione nodded with a smile.

Seamus walked over to the center of clearing and knelt beside Hermione. "What are we looking for anyway?" he asked observing her digging through her tote bag as if rummaging for food. She finally turned over her bag letting all the contents fall out. She finally found the small journal where she had scribbled some notes from her research. In a far part of her mind, Seamus' question registered in her thinking stance.

"Oh, sorry Seamus. We're supposed to be looking for a body of water, a rivulet, or a spring…" she then turned back to her notes.

Draco who had remained silent until then turned to her casually, "A lake Granger, Sirens live in groups," he said. Seamus and Padma turned to Malfoy, and then back to Hermione again who was still looking at Draco. They were beginning to wonder if Malfoy really did deserve his salutatorian position in their year.

"Right," said Hermione as she turned back to her notes. Her face dropped as she saw that the name of the forest they were transported in was slightly erased, and to the point that she could not make out what it said. She had previously borrowed a book out of the library, which mapped the grounds of the enchanted moorlands of Northern France. Of course she did not intend for their group to cheat, the last thing she would have done was to bring along the book while they were on their task, but now that she did not know what the name of the forests they were in, the book was virtually useless.

"Hermione, is anything the matter?" asked Padma. Hermione looked at her and saw her look of sympathy. She wondered it she would understand. "No, I just neglected to remember what these forests were named, nothing big," she said.

She turned back to her bag and started returning the rest of the contents into the bag, leaving the journal out. Turning across the clearing, she looked in time to see Draco taking off one of his gloves and setting one of his bare white hands on the ground. She wondered what he intended to do. "It's damp," he said calmly. Hermione touched the ground as well; the grass was indeed damp. That would mean that the ground there was well irrigated since there hasn't been any rain since they arrived, it was impossible that the succulence of the ground came from falling rain.

"We're close, there's a lake close to here, I'm sure," said Hermione as she picked up her bag and headed over towards the woodland ahead. "Let's go," she said as the rest of them followed behind her. Hermione pulled on her cloak a little tighter as she entered the thickets.

Draco who stood a close distance behind Hermione followed her casually, in his mind wondering where she got her energy and zest for adventure. It was peculiar but amusing how much perseverance Gryffindors had to him, he'd once defined it as foolishness, but now, he was starting to think otherwise.

Padma grabbed Seamus hand and pulled him towards the woodland. "I think we'd better follow them if we don't want to get lost," she said keeping Hermione and Draco within her sight.

"I don't know why we have to stay down in the bushes," hissed Ron as Parvati scribbled a few notes on her piece of parchment. "Shhh, she said urgently adjusting herself under Harry's invisibility cloak. "Keep it down will you," she warned dangerously.

Harry, Parvati, Mandy and Ron were keeping track of a male Urisk lingering by the shores of the stream. They were crowding under the invisibility cloak comfortably by some bushes very close to the shores of the stream. It was a surprise that they had actually found their specimen on their first day out in the fields of Brentenoux. It was actually an accident why they had found the waterfalls so quickly. Ron actually was not paying the utmost attention to finding the Urisk but to finding wildflowers for Lavender. When he got lost the three looked for him and found him by a patch of flowers, which looked out ironically to the waterfalls.

"Because Ronald Billy Weasley," started Harry, "like any other creature whose privacy is invaded, it would likely attack us on sight. Done with the notes Parvati?"

Parvati shook her head as she scribbled down briskly breaking the tip of the quill in her hassle. "Just a while longer. Hand me another quill won't you Mandy," she whispered looking up in the distance, just in time to see the Urisk heading away from the shore and going towards the waterfalls. She breathed a sigh of relief. "It's gone."

"We should be thankful that the waterfall drowns out all our noise or who knows what would happen to us," said Mandy handing over a long albatross quill to Parvati. She took the quill and looked once again at the Urisk whose rear was conveniently facing them. She hurriedly estimated the length of its goat tail and wrote it down quickly. "Let's hope these things aren't as smart and domain defensive as centaurs."

Harry nodded, reminded of his fifth year in the forbidden forest with Hermione and Hagrid. "Maybe not, it's a lot smaller. Only part goat after all," said Ron. "But I'm not sure if that's a reason to be assured, the book says they're not evil creatures, but they have a strange impulse of…"

"Terrorizing people on occasions," continued Parvati, as she continued to write on the piece of parchment. "I still haven't figured out why."

"The records don't seem to have anything on it," Harry crinkled his brow as he scanned a thin book for information.

"It's curious behavior, perhaps it deserves a long psychological discussion on our report," observed Mandy. "Definitely," said Ron. "Well, it would fill up some inches on the parchment."

Harry groaned at Ron's remark and looked over Parvati's work.

Parvati scribbled on a few last sentences on the parchment and then finally rolled it up and stuck in her bag. "Well, I think that's enough observance for today," she said.

"Alright, let's get out of here," said Harry, "On three, one, two, three," and they stood up all covered in the cloak rushing out of the area back into the thickets of the forest from which they came from. They rushed out as far into the forest until they could barely hear the flowing water and then halted to a stop.

"I think we're safe, " said Parvati looking behind them to hear if the creature had followed them. The forest behind them remained serene.

"I don't think that thing will go chasing after four pairs of walking limbs now do you?" said Mandy pulling the cloak off himself and handing it to Harry.

"This cloak can barely cover the three of us with Hermione, let alone four," Harry folded the cloak and bundled it up. "I can't believe we're actually getting too big for it,"

Ron smiled, "Well, it was a whole lot different in the first year, when we first got it."

"Yeah," replied Harry reminded of the trio's first escapade to Hagrid's hut on a starry night. Where, he recalled, the tree of them fit snuggly under the invisibility cloak without anyone having to bend down or huddle up to keep from being revealed.  "Well, we finished quite early, think there'll be time for fun?"

Ron stretched his arms in an effort to relax before they continued on walking towards the clearing where they had appeared when they came there. "My idea of fun right now is having a good meal in the castle, without Lavender for a minute."

Parvati laughed. "You know she's merely watching out for your health Ron, can't let her favorite Quidditch hero have a bad diet."

"Favorite Quidditch hero? I think she only started calling me that when I saved the quaffle from getting in the hoop on the last second of last year's game," he said with a slight frown remembering his first and most miserable year on the Quidditch team.

"Well, I think that's something to be proud of, you won the game without Harry or Fred and George on the team," said Parvati.

"Well, that's one thing, I hope they don't cancel the Quidditch season because of this." Ron quickened his pace slightly to catch on with Harry and he walked alongside him.

"They won't," said Mandy who was one of the Ravenclaw chasers. "It's been settled that the Quidditch season would commence in November, sometime after we get back to Hogwarts, just hope the snow doesn't make an early fall this year."

"I've heard Dumbledore's got it all taken care of. I don't know how quite, yes but, he had made plans to adjust the conditions of the stadium so that it would be appropriate for play even though the snow falls," said Parvati.

"That's great," said Ron. "Well, good enough anyway, I know Dumbledore's powerful but we can't expect him to have elemental influences now can we?" He turned to Harry beside him who had grown quiet for a few moments. Ron knew that it didn't take a fool to figure out whom he was thinking about. Harry began to notice that Ron was observing him and he turned to him questioningly.

"Knut for your thoughts," said Ron. Harry grinned slightly.

"Oh," he said "I was just wondering—"

"How Hermione's doing," continued Ron absentmindedly. He smiled and turned to Harry, "Right?" Harry looked surprised; Ron did know him too well.

"What gave you that idea?" he said hurrying ahead of him as he entered the clearing and picking up the small statue of a goblin that they had used as their portkey. Mandy and Parvati approached him and held the portkey consecutively.

"Ron!" Parvati called out.

"You haven't got a clue Harry!" called Ron as he followed his best friend smiling.

"Perhaps not," said Harry. "Now come on!" Ron sighed. The only thing Ron thought, that would please him the most then, was to see his two best friends together, happy. Maybe, he thought, it would not be long then. Coming up to the three of them, who already held the portkey, he gave Harry a mildly confident look before he touched the goblin statue as well.

"Claudoux," said Draco absentmindedly as he walked past Hermione who had stopped to take some notes on the noticeable reddish bark most of the trees they were passing had. She stopped to look at him puzzled.

"What?" she asked curiously.

Draco turned back at her and raised his eyebrows, "You wanted to know what was the name of these forests, did you not?" he said nonchalantly continuing to follow the trail. Hermione quickly turned a few pages back to her previous notes and wrote 'Claudoux' down where the word got obscured. She then looked up to see Malfoy walking ahead of her. She hurried her pace and walked after him until she was merely a few strides behind him. She had grown curious about him once more, perhaps she had found her match when it came to brains intriguingly in him.

"I take it you have these things memorized," she said quietly looking around them while she walked. Draco smirked, "You have no idea what a little light reading does for me," he said leeringly.

"So I've seen," said Hermione who was beginning to be unnerved by his recalcitrant nature. She stopped for a moment as they came upon two new paths that parted from the trail they were following. "Don't you think it's a little unfair to fancy me as a bookworm when you are one yourself?" she added in a low voice.

"I heard that, and I _am _not a bookworm, " he insisted with much conviction. Hermione raised an eyebrow at him.

"Thaen why is it that you always correct me when I recall something our of a book, doesn't that indicate that you do memorize every single word out of every book you've ever read?"

"How very observant of you," he sneered. Hermione frowned as she stepped in front of him consecutively looking at the two pathways. "How are you at navigating Malfoy?" she asked lightly before peering towards the right pathway, which seemed rather dark and desolate. The trees in that direction seemed to be thickening and their canopies did not seem to let in much sunlight. It didn't seem at all that inviting. On the other hand, the other pathway seemed similar yet the canopies of the trees were not that thick, the sunlight shown a bit clearer.

Hermione turned to Malfoy, he was looking at the dark pathway and he seemed to be contemplating if it was wise to enter it or not. "Funny, you should ask that Granger, I've never had need for navigation skills in my life."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Somehow, I find that hard to believe," she commented slowly looking down the left pathway.

"But," he continued, "It does not mean that I do not have any."

"Funny you should say. I don't think there could be any lakes in that direction, the trees are too close together."

Draco turned towards the right pathway slowly, observing her point. "Which means the overgrowth can only get thicker," she said. She turned around hoping to see Seamus and Padma coming towards them but frowned when she saw no trace of them. To Draco's surprise she went up the path again and called for them. He turned back as well looking around quietly silently wondering where the pair must have gone to. _Hmph,_ he thought, _they must have gotten lost, fools._ 

"Seamus, Padma," called Hermione walking slowly back up the path. Looking around she wondered where they could have disappeared to when the path was rather clear. "Where are you?" She turned back around to reach Draco. There was no way she could find them on her own. Drawing out her wand from her bag quickly she ran back down the path.

Reaching the parting of the path she raised her eyes see Draco quietly looking up at the sky. Approaching him slowly, she peered up at the sky as well, curiously looking at what he was previously observing. There seemed to be a curious number of black crows flying towards the south at a peculiarly expeditious speed. She advanced towards him slowly. "Padma and Seamus are gone, I don't know where they are but we have to find them," she said reminded of the missing pair.

Draco turned around from direction he was facing before and raised his head gingerly. He was facing the left pathway of the parting. He raised a gloved hand and pointed towards it. "There," he said in a serious tone.

Hermione looked at him, confused. "What?" she asked looking at him questioningly. But before she heard his answer a shrill scream broke her chain of thought. She looked towards the direction Draco had indicated a moment before. The sound registered quickly in her mind, it sounded like…

"Padma!" she exclaimed, bounding down the pathway following the source of the scream. She rushed through the thicket distinctly hearing Draco's boots crushing the leaves that had fallen to the ground following behind her. In a few seconds following the trail, Hermione heard Padma's scream once more echoing through the woods, she stopped for a moment, listening. Draco stopped behind her looking wildly around him. They had come to another clearing, which had yet another set of pathways leading away from it.

"Padma! Where are you?" she called, as the echoes of Padma's scream grew fainter. She violently looked around the clearing and then turned to Draco desperately.

"They have to be somewhere around here, I could have sworn I heard Padma," Hermione ran towards the edge of the clearing listening for Padma's cries once more.

Draco turned to the various pathways leading from the clearing. Deciding on where the scream had come from.

"Seamus!!! SEAMUS NO!!!"  Hermione turned her head. It was definitely Padma; Hermione had no doubt. Draco slowly ran over to one of the pathways across the clearing and gestured to Hermione to follow him, "Here!" he exclaimed. Hermione followed swiftly after him. Tightening the grip on her wand she silently prayed that everything was well. The apprehension she felt only left her to imagine the worst. Bounding through the trail Hermione looked forward, almost relieved to see a bright light in the distance. A distinct sound of flowing water could be heard, and Hermione was certain that they were heading towards a lake. _Please, please let everything be all right,_ she thought as they neared the end of the trail.

"What the?" said Draco in a mildly shocked manner as he registered the scene before him in his mind. Hermione gasped rigidly as she took in the same scene as well. They had reached a lake, a vast and immense body of water, apparently the one that they had been searching for all this time. But it was not that that shocked them. It was the fact that Padma who was screeching by the shoreline seemingly in hysterics with the sight before her. Seamus who did not seem at all bothered was lingering by the rocks almost in the middle of the lake flaunted by three birdlike creatures with feathery bodies but whose heads were human in form. He was smiling madly; enticed by the creatures. The creatures drew him towards the rocks and urged him to sit with them and he looked glad to oblige. Hermione realized what they were.

"The Sirens!" she gasped in horror. Her mind reeled as she knew what was in store for Seamus if they failed to do something. She tightened the grip on her wand as she rushed to Padma's side.

"What are we going to do?" she asked in desperation.

"Get your wand out!" interjected Hermione with an extreme air of worry. "We have to get those things away from him."

Padma, as if unfrozen from her shock hurriedly retrieved her wand from her robes and directed it at the Sirens. "But how?"

Hermione's breath started to quicken by the moment. The only way she could think about was to stun the Sirens; it was possibly the only way they could reach Seamus safely. Hermione turned towards the distant rock-strewn center. It was a far distance; she did not know how they could possibly aim that far. Hermione raised her wand "Stun them!" she told Padma as she moved closer towards the shoreline.

Draco rushed towards the shoreline as well; he looked like he was contemplating on something. His mind spun, he knew very well that the stunning spells were too far cast to cause any real damage, and if they did cause real damage in some sorts; it would mean carnage for their final grades. He would not allow that, and he'd jump off a cliff if Hermione ever allowed that. "Stop it!" he said to the two girls who were sending off stunning spells towards the creatures. "If those things die, we'll be to blame!"

Hermione turned to him "We'll be to blame as well if Seamus gets devoured! What do you propose we do Malfoy?!" Draco turned back to the Sirens. He knew that they were highly susceptible to men. Perhaps if he… no, it was too risky.

"Why did I have to get stuck in a group with him?" said Draco exasperatedly as he thought again. Draco closed his eyes, he could only think of one other way. There was merely a question of him doing it or not. He had so many reasons for doing it, and so many reasons of not doing it. He had to decide then.

"Damnation!" he cursed as she pulled off his cloak. _I don't believe I'm doing this! _

"Huh?" Hermione looked just in time to see Draco darting out towards the center of the lake.

"M-Malfoy!" she exclaimed.

Draco quickly withdrew his wand from his robe pocket and aimed it vehemently at the Sirens. One of the Sirens turned and instantly saw him approaching; she made a move to maim him by approaching him through the water from the rocks to enchant him. Draco stopped, his body was half immersed in the water and the Siren was advancing towards him. If she reached him, she would devour him instantly. He had to decide…

"What is he…" said Padma lowering her wand in a second. She turned to Hermione who looked genuinely worried. She paced a few slow steps then ran into the water to get a wider view of what was happening. She feared for both of them, if they would be unable to stop the Sirens, it would mean certain death for the pair, and Hermione was sure that there would be not trace of them if that happened.

"Hermione!" Padma exclaimed.

Draco on the other hand had tightened his grip on his wand as he wheeled around to face the collection of rock-strewn center of the lake. With the Siren advancing he raised his wand and moved quickly towards the center of the lake. "Bloody Hell," he swore, his robes were weighing him down. It would have helped if he had taken the top sheathe of his garment but he had not expected to wander so deep into the waters that his shoulders would be immersed. Draco was careful to keep his wand up on the surface of the water. He was running out of time. He had to do it.

"Denobelim!" exclaimed Draco aiming for the rocky area. A burst of light instantly formed at the tip of his wand and engulfed a part of the rocky area. Draco smirked, _just on the button._ The two other Sirens sitting on the rocks jumped off them immediately but not that immediate enough as the spell caused an explosion. One of Sirens screamed a shrill cry that echoed through out the forest. Seamus who seemed in a trace snapped up and looked around him confused. His trace had been thankfully broken.

Another shrill scream echoed through the lake and Draco spun around just in time to see the third Siren going for him. She had already laid a sharp talon on him, but before she could pierce the talon deeper that it had already gone, he directed his wand at her and sent her flying through the water smashing through the foot of the waterfalls that plunged her under the water. "I've almost forgotten _you_," he said roughly, his breath becoming uneven as he felt a sudden stinging sensation on his arm.

The smoke from the explosion Draco had cast had not yet cleared up, but the mist had opened up to reveal Seamus getting up off the rock. "Hermione! Look!" said Padma fearfully indicating Seamus regaining consciousness. Hermione turned towards the rocks and gasped.

 "Get out of there Seamus!" screeched Padma from the shoreline. Seamus stood up wobbly not hearing her. He was still unaware of the dangers he had fallen into.

Draco looked back at the area he had blown up. There he could clearly see from the smoking debris around the area was Finnegan still up on the rock. Draco could make up a musty shadow that was slowly looming over Seamus. "Damn," he swore loudly. He knew… it was the Siren.

"Get your fat bundle of an arse off that rock Finnegan!" shouted Draco fiercely before diving in to the deep waters swimming towards the center of the lake.

Seamus turned behind him seeing the large claws advancing towards him. He caught one of her claws just before it almost pierced his chest and pushed with all his might until he was sure she would fall, he let the large limb go. The Siren screamed distinctly as she lost her balance and fell into the lake. Seamus turned towards the length of the rocks and crossed them hearing the Siren pulling out of the water and tearing after him. He reached the edge of the assembly of stone and saw that there were no more places to go. Looking up he saw the Siren peering down at him with a sinister smile.

"Blimey this is me end," he said swallowing.

Just then, Draco upon reaching the center of the lake climbed up quietly onto the rocky area and approached the Siren quietly from behind. Seamus who was too overcome with fear did not see him. Draco raised his wand slowly and cast.

"Wingardum Leviosa!" he said as he directed his wand upwards, sending the awful creature flying into the air with a scream. Seamus stared at the creature as it rose in the air revealing Draco casting it upwards.

"Malfoy!" said Seamus in awe. Draco narrowed his eyes in concentration as he held the creature still bound to the spell.

"You better duck Finnegan unless you want your head off!" and with that Draco sent the Siren hurling over Seamus' head who just ducked in time. "Terradominus!" The siren screamed once more and then finally fell into the lake.

Seamus turned to Draco who looked at him with an indifferent stare. Draco looked at him for a while and then turned away with an apathetic look. Seamus looked at the unmoved Slytherin with undisguised awe. He had found it hard to believe that Draco Malfoy had just saved his life. "Malfoy," he started. Draco turned back on him in an irritated tone.

"Would you stop saying my name like it's a…" Draco's eyes suddenly widened as he focused on a spot behind Seamus "Bloody hell not this again!" he cursed as he flew towards Seamus. Seamus looked in shock as Malfoy tore towards him. "What the—" he said stopping when he heard a familiar high pitch screech coming from behind him. He turned… the third siren.

Draco dashed towards the edge of the rock towards Seamus and he pushed him off the rock, bringing him down with him into the water with a large splash.

Hermione walked a few more steps into the water as she saw Draco push Seamus into the water with him. Her heartbeat was getting quicker as the seconds grew until the two boys emerged. The siren had screamed again an earsplitting call as she tore at the waters well in pursuit of the pair. Hermione watched the surface eagerly feeling increasingly tortured. _What if they had drowned?_ She thought regretfully, hating herself for even coming up with the thought. Her eyes widened as the siren dove halfway into the water and Hermione knew that they were still there. "Malfoy! Seamus!" she called wanting for them to get out of the water so she would know that they were alive. In a matter of moments, Draco's platinum blonde head stuck out of the waters surface and the after a second so did Seamus'. Hermione breathed out in anticipation as they approached the shoreline with the Siren on their tails.

Hermione turned around "Padma get the portkey out!!!" she called urgently as Draco and Seamus approached the spot where she was standing. Padma dug through the pockets of her robe and withdraw the portkey from it. As Draco and Seamus reached the shallow waters they quickened their pace and dashed towards Padma with Hermione. She held out the blue marble ball and they all hurriedly laid their hands on it. Hermione breathed in as a swirl of bright colors engulfed her along with the feeling of having her navel tugged from the inside, yet she did not care. They were thankfully and finally safe.

"Luna!" exclaimed Ginny realizing she was staring at Luna Lovegood who was holding her illuminated wand in front of her face. The Ravenclaw girl was dressed in a long peach robe, topped by her House robe. Ginny, made a face as she eyed her choice of clothing muttering that she needed a fashion adviser. She looked like a fiend at first glance, Ginny smiled as she breathed in, in relief and also the humor of her thought. She wondered if she would repeat her thought to Luna, if she would take it as a compliment rather than an insult. "What are you doing here?"

Luna smiled widely, "Hallo Ginny! I'd just come from the kitchens to get a cup of mulberry tea with some dried mace, and a secret ingredient…" she said saucily indicating a closed mug she was holding in her hands. Ginny rolled her eyes as Luna grinned. "You should try some, it does wonders for the nerves," obviously referring to the way she had screamed earlier.

Ginny moved over to Luna's side looking at the tea-filled mug suspiciously. "Right," she said in a tone that simply stated that she wouldn't drink anything recommended by Luna if you paid her. She had not intention to find out what the secret ingredient was.

"How about you, what are you doing out? Its close to curfew, I think," she said

Ginny closed her eyes with a mildly exasperated expression. "I came from the prefect common room, had a little 'talk' with Cho," she said plainly not wanting to discuss it further. Luna on the other hand, apparently did want to discuss it. She looked thoughtful for a moment as Ginny took small sidesteps from her itching to leave. "Oh, her," said Luna. "There aren't any… you know…" Ginny raised her eyebrows at the Ravenclaw. "I know… what?" she asked impatiently.

"Any reserved cat-fights going on between you two?" said Luna curiously. Ginny's eyes lit up slightly, and then regained their normal state. "No," she answered plainly. "Though I hoped there were," she muttered incoherently. _Then I could show that soddy wench what's what. _ She added in her mind.

Ginny stopped and then looked up suddenly. A chill had just run down her spine at the moment. She immediately turned her head wildly around. Her eyes ran over the dim windows only letting a limited amount of light in and then over to the shadows the vast archways cast on the stone floor. There was nothing she could see but her muscles had tensed, she could oddly sense the presence of someone… or rather something. Was this the entity that threaded the school at that very moment? She was almost sure that it was, and she could sense it. It was close, extremely close. Why was it here? What did it want? She had to know.

She turned back to Luna who was wearing an extremely perplexed look.

"What was that?" asked Luna with a puzzled expression. Ginny smiled back at her.

"No, nothing. Anyway, I think I have to go, see you Luna!" she said before dashing across the hallway.

_'Close… very close," he thought, fading into the eerie darkness of the dark walls of the castle drifting further into the shadows as the young girl fled away from him as her footsteps echoed through the hallway. The creature sneered to itself vilely with insurmountable mirth. "Yes, yes… you can feel me now can you… just as you have always been capable of… you can sense it, though you don't know it."_

_Perhaps he should have led her to her doom then, but he didn't… Because he knew that then was still not the time. He was merely letting her fears grow as she realized that she was the target… because she was special. She knew she was special, and he, he wanted her to realize, that in the end, she would be only too special for her own good. Yes, he was merely waiting, waiting for her to realize. To realize what she was to eventually know, and that would be the same reason she would meet her end…_

_There were too many mysteries that shrouded her, and he was sure to uncover every single one of them before everything. She was a marvel, and also to his master, she was a menace. She had to die… _

_Yes, it was not long now…_

The serene common room stayed still and silent as it had a few hours before. But that was not meant to last. In mere seconds there rang a clatter of some sorts as a crash of glass was heard throughout the room. There, in the center of the enormous den were four stirring teenagers, looking as if they had fallen from the sky, sprawled on the floor of the room.

"What the?" groaned Hermione weakly as she rubbed her sore spinning head. She opened her eyes gingerly as her mind adjusted to the scene before her. She then remembered, the forests, the lake, the sirens… _But where were…_ Hermione sat up urgently looking wildly at her surroundings. Beside her was Padma still not into the picture. Her eyes were shut as she supported herself with her elbows trying to support herself upwards. Hermione was sure she would be fine.

"Padma?" she said in a placid tone. She placed her arm around Padma's shoulders and helped her onto the couch, which was conveniently behind them. Padma opened her eyes and took a few moments to focus them. Hermione looked around the room again; she heard a low groan coming from behind the couch. She peered down at the floor and saw Seamus starting to stir as well. His sandy hair was dripping on the floor and so were his robes, Hermione smiled weakly remembering the situation Seamus had gotten himself into earlier, which reminded her; where was Draco? She peered across the room and spotted Malfoy; leaning on the opposite divan from them with his head tilted slightly to the cushion of the seat with his eyes closed. His chest rose and fell at an uneven pace indicating that he was conscious, only tired. Hermione observed his cool stature closely, wondering how he could stand to be that way always, seemingly calm and forbearing. Her eyes fell to his blonde hair, which seemed a little bit darker because of the water weighing it down. Nevertheless his blonde tresses still shimmered with water droplets that lingered on his head, some of which had fallen onto his lashes. Hermione turned away, in an effort to cease the impossible sprint of her thoughts only to look back. He looked like the time she had seen him by the lake at Hogwarts, with the light of the moon illuminating his face; she thought the same of him now. He looked so idyllic, so perfect and utopian that it was inhuman.

What's more, just then, she had seen another part of him a few moments before. She still could not believe he had saved Seamus. It seemed surreal, the occurrence just then. It was not merely how he had acted but how she did. As he tore at the waters she could not stop her worry and apprehension, it was not as if she had to care was it? After all she had often wished him unpleasantness of the worst sorts, yet now… she just had to ask… did she really?

In the back of his mind Draco felt consciousness streaming back to his senses as he leaned up on the couch behind him. He kept his eyes closed as he pulled his mind integrally. He remembered instantly the occurrence that had just happened, without opening his eyes, he knew where he has and should have been at that moment. He suddenly felt a stinging sensation on his left arm where the Siren's talon had pierced him. Yet, it was not the present had not bothered him; it was the occurrences that had happened a few moments ago. He had only a single question left unanswered in his slightly muddled mind stream; what had made him jump in the water. Definitely he could have concluded at that moment that Seamus' life did not matter to him. He was a Gryffindor… and there was one more thing; it was not as if he would have done the same for Draco. He sighed indignantly, he knew it was not the worry of his grades that urged him to save Finnegan, no, it was something else. He'd be damned, what did he care about a bunch of ratings the teachers give him? It wasn't as if he needed good grades anyway, he could not work in his entire life and he'd still survive. With twenty three billion galleons in the Malfoy name he really didn't need anything. No, he had exceptional grades because he was smart; and he stood by that because he was prideful. He wanted to prove so many people wrong…

Yet there was something else bothering Draco. He'd have to say that his mind was too tired to think about it then. That was of course, the person across from him at that moment, which he had no doubt, was looking at him at the moment.

"Don't," he said suddenly, opening his eyes lazily and instantly focusing on the vaulted ceiling, which was above them. Hermione narrowed her gaze as she observed him more closely. "What?" she asked softly. Malfoy was unfazed.

"Don't look at me Granger," he said softly. Hermione turned away quickly, unwilling to speak. She was indeed of course looking at him, not of course expecting him to sense her gaze. She looked away almost embarrassedly. "I wasn't…" she started but was unable to continue. To her surprise, he had made no attempt to contradict her, knowing she was wrong.

"Hermione?" said Padma softly beside her. She turned to the Ravenclaw almost instantly wondering once more if she had heard Draco's utterance. She then felt instantly guilty; it was not that which needed concern at the moment.

"What is it Padma?" she asked in a genial tone.

"Do we have to go back to the forests?" Padma turned to Hermione.

She nodded. "Definitely," she firmly stated. "A little setback like that is not going to keep us off track."

Seamus who seemed to be listening stood up unexpectedly and looked at them with a grave face. "Little set-back?" he said unbelievingly. "But I almost got—"

"Perhaps that could have been avoided if—" started Hermione only to be cut off by Draco unexpectedly.

"If he'd quit dreaming about sitting on shamrocks and bouncing leprechauns flaunting his fat arse?" he drawled lazily as he stood up. "Draw up a dictionary and realize finally that Sirens are deadly, especially to men… Or are you too thick to grasp that?" he continued rather harshly glaring at Seamus.

Seamus palled as he raged at Draco "Don't you dare make fun of me ethnicity. You… you—"

Padma reached for Seamus arm quickly and pulled his attention before he had the chance to insult Draco. "Seamus, remember, you owe him one." Draco shot Seamus a triumphant smirk before he pulled off his wet gloves throwing them on the couch unceremoniously. Padma tried her very best not to affirm with Draco's statement at the moment knowing that the Slytherin had a point. What was not pleasing of course was the fact that he emphasized it too insultingly.

"Don't make it a point to start a fight here, our group is in much trouble already," said Hermione as she stood up from the couch eying both Seamus and Draco simultaneously. The pair still looked at each other with obvious mirth and dislike.

Draco turned to Hermione and raised his eyebrow. "I'm glad you think so Granger." Hermione glared at him for his remark but he brushed her off with another glare as he motioned to leave the room for his quarters. She had to admit that she was impressed by his act while at the lake but there was no reason to be smug about the whole matter.

Seamus struggled with himself for a moment and then turned to Draco with the unmistakable look of stubbornness. He seemed to be deciding on something gravely important before he spoke.

"Malfoy," said Seamus stiffly.

Draco turned around and looked at him lazily. "Spare me the sap Finnegan. I told you, would you stop saying my name like it's a bloody swear word." He turned back around and headed towards the staircase. Hermione's mild annoyance of him disappeared briefly as she just realized something at that moment when she eyed Malfoy. She found it a bit amusing, that Malfoy had still regained his imperturbable stance even though he probably had a few gallons of water weighing him down. Seamus gritted his teeth firmly trying to hold on to control. Padma urged him on further before Draco reached the foot of the staircase.

Seamus turned around once again and faced Draco, taking a deep breath he stepped towards the Slytherin boy. "Thank you, Malfoy," he said and the he held out his hand. "for saving me life." Draco stopped for a moment and then turned towards Seamus unexpectedly seeing the other boy offering his hand to him. The scene seemed vaguely familiar to Draco. He looked from Seamus face to his hand and could not help be reminded on his first day in Hogwarts, when he had offered _his_ own hand to Harry Potter who refused it flatly. It was an offer of friendship that was so promising. Something that he had, for once willingly wanted to desire; the friendship of one who's trust he would work for, not stick around him because he was paid or forced to do it. But Harry did not take that chance with Draco, it was perhaps, for him the most sensible thing that he has ever done, and for that, Draco's resentment of Harry turned to hate; his own hate, his own desire to push the boy who lived off his magnificent throne. It was not his father's hate, not the dark lord's hate, but his, his and his own. Draco would never forget the first day Harry Potter had refused him, because that, that was Draco's first reason to ever having hated Harry.

Draco stared at Seamus' hand for a moment before turning away with a smirk. "Do me a favor Finnegan," he said smugly as he held out his own hand and conjured a thin blue volume upon it. Seamus stared at the book in mild astonishment. Draco turned to Seamus for the second time and the pushed the book into his hand. "Those rectangular slabs you use for doorstops, they're books Finnegan, take some time to pick one up," he sneered before he climbed the staircase and disappeared into his room.

Hermione looked down slightly as she heard Malfoy's door close, unknowingly drawing the curiosity of Padma beside her. Padma observed Hermione slowly, she had been most curious about the Gryffindor's actions towards the Slytherin boy, she had been ever since that morning. Ever since she saw the two conversing, talking impossibly civil to one another. To Padma, it was very strange yet amusing, considering the fact that Draco Malfoy, a Muggle-hating Slytherin observed an almost courteous conversation with Hermione, a Muggle-born, when they were supposed to be biting at each other within seconds of each other's company. Padma smiled to herself mildly, perhaps there were things that didn't need to be understood for them to be right. Not that she would ever think that anything between a Slytherin and a Gryffindor would be right.

Seamus, still by the staircase, stared at the book Malfoy had just handed to him.

"_'Oddyseus and the Song of the Sirens'_" he read slowly. Looking up at Malfoy's closed door, he then turned back to the book. "Curious," he said to himself.

Draco took a glance into the hallway that was before him and seeing that there was nobody in the distance, he crossed the corridor in a steady pace. It was late, who knew what time it was, but he was still up. The halls were unguarded there in Brentenoux, not like they were in Hogwarts where there was that fool of a caretaker—Filch who probably had the blood of a bat to stay up out of bed twenty-four seven. Unable to grasp a wink of sleep, Draco decided to take a walk out of his stuffy quarters. His mind was too cluttered with thoughts to sleep; he didn't know why he even bothered to try. In addition there was the unbearable stinging pain he still felt from the slash that stupid Siren had made on his arm that prevented him from sleeping.

He stopped suddenly and then looked to his right where a breath of air had blown against him, there was an open window that revealed a view of the mountains of Avaloires to his side. Draco took a few paces towards the window and gazed out at the landscape with a restrained glower. He narrowed his eyes at the darkness of the morning sky and at the soft lights that were now starting to peak out from the tops of the mountains. It was close to dawn. Draco raised one of his hands and held the window work tightly still holding a look of contemplation with a tinge of wonder. He could not keep his thoughts off his wrenched life, off his uncertain future. Draco had often thought that those thoughts were of negligible importance to him, after all, he never pulled the strings to his own life, or his future. No, he never did, Lucius did. It was always his father. Because of that, Draco had started to hate Lucius for his domination over his life. When he was growing up he began to realize so much more that not once had he made a decision that benefited him, not his father. But when he was faced with the decision his father forced him to make, the decision to present himself to the Dark Lord knowing what would be in store for him if he did, he gave in to it, not that he had a choice. No, he thought tightening his grip on the bar of the window; he did indeed have a choice, and he had his reasons. He did it for Blaise, and his mother. But there was one more reason, he would never admit it, but he knew the reason he didn't try to disobey his father's wills on purpose. It was because he was afraid. Afraid of what his refusal would mean for him, afraid of what it would mean for him; disgrace, or maybe something worse… like death.

Draco closed his eyes tightly unwilling to accept or acknowledge the fact that he feared death. He was not supposed to fear anything; he was supposed to be thankful that he would have died standing by what he believed in not by something he thought he believed in. He opened his eyes as his frowned deepened, he thought, and for the first time in his life he asked himself, what did he believe in now, now that he acknowledged his hate for his father and everything he stood for?    

Draco gripped the window bar even harder than before… What did it matter? He had already made his decision, hadn't he; there was nothing, nothing more that could be done.

The young Slytherin loosened his hold on the window bar as he backed away from the transom. He turned back down the dark hallway but before he made his way down, he took a last glance back at the window just in time to see a hint of the golden glare of the morning sun peaking out of the east mountains of Avaloires, already obscuring the darkness of the night that had passed. Draco's deep scowl slackened a bit as he gazed at the dawning sun.

_Nothing more to be done…_ the words rang in his head. He watched the sunrise from the earlier dark corridor, which was beginning to light up as the minutes passed that he stood by the arched window watching the sunrise in silence.

_Or was there?_

__

A sharp knock on Hermione's door caught her attention as she was pricking a small wooden shaft through her hair to hold up the bun she had formed it in on that morning. She stood up from the velvety cushion she had been previously sitting on and walked over to the door to see who was there.

"Hermione," Padma smiled as she saw Hermione through the doorway. The Ravenclaw was dressed in a beautifully tailored Indian robe in dark blue; Hermione took notice of her stunning attire as soon as she saw her. She had almost forgotten that they were allowed to wear their casual attire while away from Hogwarts. She suddenly felt awkward in her classic black robes.

Hermione looked at her with a curious look. "Has something happened?" she asked. Padma's smile widened as she nodded her head.

"Oh, I'm sorry, come in," said Hermione opening the door of her room up further letting her inside her room.

"You're probably under the impression that our group is cursed," said Padma with a smile. Hermione smiled back instantly recalling their dreadful incident the other day before. Her face grew serious, they hadn't exactly figured out how they would explain themselves when the Brentenoux staff would find the Siren dwellings half blown up and the Sirens themselves half to death because of what Malfoy did to them.

"Perhaps," started Hermione "I don't even want to think about how this place's staff would react to two of their specimens immobile and injured, not to mention the smoking dwellings…"

"Don't worry, I've talked to Fleur, she seemed to take it lightly. She said that there was nothing that a little magic could not do… she even referred to the Sirens as 'doze wretched creatures'" said Padma. Hermione's eyes lit up as Padma told her the good news. "That's wonderful," she exclaimed. She was for the first time in praise of Fleur Delacour, perhaps she was not that snobbish, as she seemed.

"Listen, Hermione," started Padma again. The Ravenclaw untied the thick roll of parchment she had brought with her earlier. Hermione sat beside her curiously as she looked at the contents of the parchment. "I thought about what happened the other day and, I— we, Seamus and I, just wanted to do something, something to thank you."

Hermione looked perplexed. "Thank you for what? I didn't do anything, as far as the incident yesterday goes I'd say it was all…" Hermione looked away from Padma. The Ravenclaw smiled.

"Malfoy, saved Seamus from the Sirens, Padma."

"I know, but I don't thing he would acknowledge me if I knocked on his door and presented something Seamus had taken part in, I don't think that after the incident, he would trust him enough to know anything about the Siren. You see Hermione, last night; we worked on the observational report," she said handing over the thick overlapping scrolls to Hermione who looked them over carefully. Hermione could not help but be impressed by their hard work, it was indeed a comprehensive report. "Seamus read the book Malfoy gave him and a few more referential books we found in the library last night, and he wrote half the report, we managed to finish it just now. I hope it's enough, seventy three inches," Hermione looked at Padma with wide eyes.

"Padma, a seventy three? That's enough for the entire observational account, you mean you've done all of it?" she asked.

"Yes, Hermione, I know we need to take at least three visits to the areas of study to write the entirety of this report but…" Hermione caught on with her point. Hermione herself did not think that a second visit to the place where they met with danger was advisable especially for Seamus.

"I see, I think we can easily fix that… considering all the hard work," she stopped as she looked back at the report. At the least, that took care of one of the tiring aspects of their work. "You've done, thank you Padma," she said smiling at the Ravenclaw. "And please thank Seamus as well."

Padma stood up with a beautiful beam. "It's nothing, I think that we should be the ones thanking you…" she stopped abruptly thinking how Hermione would react to what she would say next. "you and Malfoy."

Hermione looked up at Padma with an unexplainable expression of intangible shock, or was it fear… Padma looked at Hermione's expression, she knew that she would anticipate her expression to be something like she had displayed just then. She turned around and walked towards the door and at the last moment turning back at the Gryffindor girl.

"Thank you again Hermione," and she left.

Taking hurried steps towards end of the hall where two large doors were positioned wide open; she picked up the pace as she drew nearer to the Grand Dinning Hall. She clutched a small slightly crumpled note in her right hand and in the other a small straw brown pouch.

Walking up to the table where the Gryffindors were busy with lunch, she approached Harry hurriedly.

"Hermione," said Harry spotting her immediately. "We've been wondering where you've been off to…"

Ron looked up at her immediately. "Have you heard Hermione, Remus is invi—"

"Shhhhhhh," said Hermione and Harry simultaneously at Ron with agitated faces. The looked at each other at once with amused expressions.

"How did you know? Did Moony write you?" said Harry as he pushed away his soup bowl. Hermione shook her head with a genial smile. Harry raised one of his eyebrows as he pulled out one of the chairs for Hermione to sit.

"How then?" Hermione sat down on the chair facing Harry immediately.

"Fleur wrote me," said Hermione simply presenting the small note she was holding to Harry, he took the note and began to scan the piece of parchment with the large loopy writing on it. "She must be in close correspondence with Lupin to do him these favors."

Ron looked up at the sound of Fleur's name and not long after receiving a strong blow in the ribs from Lavender beside him. "Oww," he groaned as he looked at his girlfriend with an innocent look. "What did I do?"

"Watch it, Ronald Weasley," she said threateningly.

Hermione looked at them amusedly. "We must not let our possessiveness show," she warned as if addressing a harem of women. Lavender smiled at her pleasantly.

"So where is it?" asked Harry suddenly as he finished reading the note. Hermione turned back to him and raised up the small straw pouch that she had been handling earlier. "Is she sure?"

"Quite, Padma told me that she was the one who helped our group out last week, out of a rather tight spot," looking over at Seamus who smiled at her knowingly.

"Which is?" asked Ron curiously as he stuffed another spoonful of potatoes in his mouth. Hermione smiled, turning to Ron.

"Not for amiable conversation at the moment, anyway I trust her wholeheartedly and think she means well," she continued.

Harry nodded. "Of course, I don't object to that, but…" Hermione grabbed one of his hands unexpectedly and squeezed it. Harry looked at her in half shock and pleasure at having her hold his hand in that way. "The last time I checked, Harry James Potter, it was I who was most cautious among the three of us," she motioned to Ron who nodded. "It isn't as if you'd dislike seeing Remus again, wouldn't you?" she said.

Harry looked at her. It was such a small favor to ask; she was merely asking him to be happy that they would be meeting Remus soon, very soon. He knew he would do it, because there was something he wished to ask Remus, and he would conduct the task in immediacy because it was she who asked. Harry breathed in as he looked into her wide, innocent… beautiful brown eyes. Over the years Hermione had always been there for him, he felt guilty that he had not always been there for her. Because she almost never needed anything; but he did. He always needed something, if not from her then from Ron. He could have never gotten where he was then if not for them, he knew just as much. Then as he took in the figure of Hermione now holding his hand being there, he knew… He just knew it, that if she would ask him to die for her he would do it. He would never regret anything as long as it was for Hermione. It was clear enough then more than ever…

"No, I wouldn't," he answered in a voice that seemed far away from his thoughts. "We'll go to Carrouges, of course we will, won't we Ron?" he asked turning to his best friend. Ron looked at him with a mild smirk.

"Of course we will," he answered as he turned to Lavender who held a knowing look.

"Great," said Hermione as she smiled sweetly at Harry. "Tomorrow then?"

Ron looked at her. "Tomorrow? Isn't that too soon? And besides…" he trailed off, he was supposed to mention their report but had a pretty good bet that Hermione was done with the entirety of their group's work at the work rate she had. "You've done your report haven't you? You've done all of it already?" he told Hermione.

"Of course not, Ron," said Hermione softly, partially embarrassed over the fact.

"I knew it! Hermione it's been a week!" exclaimed Ron obviously not listening to her. Harry smiled. "How could you have completed twenty rolls in that span of time?"

Hermione sighed inwardly. "You didn't hear me, I said we haven't yet. We all know that twenty rolls is a bit too much."

Ron crossed his arms over his chest. "Oh did you?" he said with a smile. Lavender laughed.

"Really dear, you should listen sometimes…" she said.

Hermione continued. "Anyway, I've only completed my fifth roll and the rest have done a considerable sum. All in all, our group has probably only made it past fifteen." Ron's shock returned to his features all of a sudden at hearing this. Harry could not help but be awed as well. It was almost six years then and Harry could not believe that he and Ron had not gotten used to Hermione's wild study habits.

"F-fifteen?" said Harry unable to add further comments.

"I'll never know what keeps your mind on fire…" said Ron.

Hermione smiled. "Of course you won't. There's really nothing… only good study habits, which I suggest you acquire Ron, if you want to be an auror." Ron turned towards Lavender. "I've been hearing that from her for years and still can't make sense of it…"

Lavender sighed. "Perhaps it's high time you should…"

"Anyway, the fifteen rolls isn't all my work, Seamus and Padma have given about four and Malfoy, seven," said Hermione.

Harry raised his eyebrow. "Don't you think that's a large portion of your report to his credit?"

"Harry, it isn't as if Hermione's gonna actually trust her grade into Malfoy's hands. It's nothing a little revision can't help, isn't it?" said Ron with finality.

"Actually, I've already checked all of his works and they're all faultless. The plotting data, the mythological reports, everything. I don't think revision is necessary; he may be an irrefutable git but let's not forget that he's second in the ranking of our year academically standing," said Hermione. Harry and the others just looked at her curiously.

"You're praising Malfoy, are you aware of that?" said Ron seriously over the table. Hermione bit her lip as Ron questioned her. She should have been more careful with her words; she would have given anything to take it back. Though it was indeed true that Malfoy's reports were a great help to their work, she doubted if Harry and the others would see it that way, and only that way. Hermione stopped as she caught herself thinking about him again. There was absolutely nothing wrong with her best friend's opinion about Malfoy, for their ill impressions on him were true weren't they, and for another thing, she shared those impressions as well, and stood by them.

Did she really? 

"Miss Granger." Hermione looked up at the direction in which her name was called and saw professor McGonnagal at the door of the dinning hall. She couldn't help but be relieved she did not have to answer Ron at that moment when ill thoughts were running through her mind. Standing beside McGonnagal was a person that wasn't hard to miss; his platinum blonde hair was much of a glare in the bright dinning hall. Hermione pushed her chair from her table and looked at her housemates.

"Duty calls," she said plainly.

"Yeah, see you later," said Ron as Hermione walked away from the table towards Professor McGonnagal.

Ron looked at Harry with a look of seriousness, as Hermione approached the doorway of the Grand Dinning Hall. "Malfoy's getting to her isn't he?"

Harry turned to the end of the room where Professor McGonnagal led the two students out of the hall. "No, no… it's not that. Hermione would never consent to doing something like that… and besides, she hates his guts; she has always. I don't think she'll stop any time soon," said Harry with conviction.

Ron adjusted himself on his chair. "I do hope you're right Harry, I do hope you're right."

"To be more articulate Mr. Malfoy, Ms. Granger, your duties shall begin at this very hour," said Professor McGonnagal from her seat addressing Hermione and Draco who were sited patiently in front of her, each obviously making an extreme effort to ignore each other's presence. Apparently the two Professors who remained at Brentenoux were due for leave very soon. "Professor Figg and I have immediate orders from the headmaster to return to Hogwarts immediately," McGonnagal continued cringing her brow slightly. Draco could easily sense the Professor's discomfort. He could only be sure that it was the nervousness she felt in leaving the entirety of the sixth-year student body miles from England without any of the Hogwarts staff to look after them, or, it was possible that the urgency in which they were being called back was the case. Though Draco could not think of any reason that grave that was currently happening at the Wizarding School, he knew that it was definitely not about Voldemort. That was obscure, for Harry Potter was there in Brentenoux where much trouble must be anticipated.

McGonnagal eyed the both of them seriously as she resumed. "I have no choice but to put all my confidences in the both of you. Professor Dumbledore has set his preferences for the both of you to be the responsibility while the entirety of the sixth year population is in France and I am sure his choice is not flawed. Now, I trust you are aware of the duties bestowed upon you?"

"Yes Professor," the two answered in low tones. Hermione resisted the urge to turn to Draco at that very moment, doubting that he would have the pleasure of looking at her. For her, if ever he did, he would be right to think so seeing as now they had two responsibilities they had to do together. It was not good; it was not good at all. The pressure of having such a responsibility bestowed on her, a responsibility that put the safety of the entire sixth-year population at stake if anything went wrong. Hermione could not understand why McGonnagal was leaving them at that time.

"Professor," Hermione called calmly from her seat.

"Yes, Miss Granger."

"I thought you weren't due for departure until next week, surely no hurry is needed for most of the staff is at Hogwarts already…must you both go?"

McGonnagal breathed in; she had wanted to avoid that question for some time. She could not put the sixth-year body in a state of worry while they were residing in France by telling them the situation of Hogwarts.

"Our duties at the school must not be neglected Ms. Granger, I know you think much of the value of responsibility."

"Yes, Professor," said Hermione trying not to show her discontent at the Professor's answer.

"I do hope so. I trust you both with your classmates and you must not fail me, and your other teachers. While we are away, I expect the both of you to keep track of attendance at the Grand Dinning Hall, at breakfast and dinner, any absences shall require permission from either of the both of you or of Ms. Fleur Delacour, who is in charge of the castle for now. The castle staff has been informed of the rules of your stay here and they will assist the both of you as well. But do not stay at ease for one moment when we leave for I put the greatest responsibility on the both of you because, you, of all the other personnel in this castle know your classmates the best." McGonnagal stopped, she was sure of the capabilities of both students before her but then as she looked at the both of them, she inevitably noticed the space between them. For her, like many of her colleagues, it was never right that the both of them be paired together as the two in charge of their class. Their capabilities were not the things in question but it was the cooperation between them. It was obvious to her and everybody that Gryffindor and Slytherin would just not do, but it seemed to be different for Dumbledore who believed otherwise. Sometimes McGonnagal feared for Dumbledore, then realized he was not supposed to be feared after all… Perhaps in the end the Hogwarts headmaster would show his reasons for everything he had done so far, but for now, it was too early to ask questions from him which he would not answer.

"I also understand that you have your own research works to worry about, which is why I know it will be inevitable for the both of you to watch over everything that is happening within the castle. But I and almost all of your teachers have no doubt in both your academic capabilities which is why I am certain that this will not be a problem."

"Professor, I believe we are experiencing more difficulties than expected," said Hermione. Draco nodded silently beside her.

"Why? Have you not plotted the dwellings of your creature yet?" asked McGonnagal.

"No, it is one of the things that we have set attention to."

"They you have nothing to worry about, Ms. Granger. I am sure that you will do just fine."

Hermione was about to raise another argument but then decided otherwise and just nodded in agreement.

"Well, if everything is in order, I think this meeting should now be concluded. I'd like you and the student body to expect us back five days from now, is that clear?" she asked the both of them as she abruptly halted her chain of thought. She received from each of them an affirmative and briskly dismissed them.

"She can't be serious?" said Ron disbelievingly as he looked up from the short note that Harry handed him.

"You know she is," said Harry standing up from the seat he had been previously sitting on. He sat by the writing desk of their quarters and grabbed a quill from the stand. After a few moments he was scribbling a reply note.

"You know why she's doing this then? Why do we continue to let her help us?" said Ron grabbing his sweater, which was set on the backrests of one of the chairs, and putting it on. Harry looked at him for a moment with a slightly amused looked and then got back to writing the reply note.

"Why don't you tell me why she's doing this then," he said in a rather cherry manner. Ron approached Harry quickly trying to read a few words off Harry's reply note but it was too late, Harry had already folded it up and enclosed it in the envelope. "Harry, you know very well, Fleur has her eye on Lupin, it's quite obvious," replied Ron.

Harry crossed the room to open the window where a small russet owl was waiting. "Which is exactly my point," said Harry. Ron was now giving him a look of bleakness. He sat back down on the couch.

"I don't understand one bit of you Harry James Potter," Ron crossed his arms over his chest in an exasperated manner.

Harry laughed as he sat back across Ron on the couch he had been sitting on earlier. "Listen to the reason Ron," he said. "The mere statement is absurd, Lupin is old enough to be Fleur's father. He'd never even consider being with her even if someone bribed him, he's the most reverent of the marauders, you know that."

"I'm not saying Lupin would ever consider having her but I'm thinking about Fleur. She might not be all that we think her to be… Lupin is too friendly, he might reveal to her things that are too dangerous to tell…" retorted Ron.

"Ron, Moony has his charms. He also has the will to resist charms of others you know, If Fleur wanted anything from him other than… you know… I'm sure the last thing on his mind would be to give in."

"Even if that is so, she could have other things up her sleeve," retorted the stubborn redhead. Harry glanced at him amusedly.

"You're thinking about her as a sort of fem fetal Ron?"

Ron looked at Harry perplexedly. "What gave you that idea?"

Harry grinned, "Oh nothing, perhaps the fact that you are most attracted to those dangerous women types… You know, it was not me who first saw appeal to Fleur in the first place… come to think of it, it was you," he said fondly recalling their fourth year.

"Oh stuff it Harry," replied Ron.

Harry turned to his right where the light was slowly diminishing. A candle beside him was starting to burn out; he took his wand out and lit it quickly. "You still don't trust her Ron?"

Ron slapped his hand down on the couch he was sitting on as he looked at Harry seriously. "Yes Harry, in all obviousness I don't trust her."

Turning back to him, Harry maintained a serious air. "Well your gonna have to," he said. "She's the only way we're gonna be able to meet Lupin while we're here."

Slipping through his door he descended the staircase genially and crossed the den of their quarters. He looked up at the ceiling, which displayed a clear night sky through the glass skylight of the room. Draco sat down casually on one of the couches of the den not taking his eyes off the view above him. Gazing up at the skies, he could have said that he has never seen such a beautiful night sky. It could be that or maybe the mere fact that he had never taken enough time to look at the night sky as thoughtfully as he did then. What could be appreciated about stargazing at the spires of the Malfoy Manor, when the place itself reeked of unpleasantness and unhappy memories? Or at Hogwarts; where he had not a chance to do such, for he was always supposed to act too reserved for such things.

Draco's tranquil stance was suddenly interrupted by the sudden throbbing pain that was beginning to erupt from his arm at that moment. He turned his attention to his lower arm where he remembered the sight of a large talon embedding itself into his skin. He rolled up the black cuff of the long-sleeved sweatshirt he was wearing and held his arm in place with his other hand. He observed the carelessly wrapped limb swathed in a long white strip of cloth which he had carelessly done himself after the incident at the lake. He had not bothered himself by heading to the castle's infirmary thinking it a waste of time and for another point, he would not want to reveal to the medi-witches where he had acquired the wound for he was sure that the medi-witches in the French castle would not be as lost for questions as Madame Pomfrey was. He also thought better of revealing the wound to his group mates doubting very heavily that they would care about him. They would probably even say that he deserved it. Turning the wounded area to the light provided by the floating lamps above him, Draco was beginning to see a distinct red splotch that was starting to form beneath the white cloth. He swore; the wound was opening again. Draco was beginning to regret his decision to not go to the infirmary. Draco pulled a lose strip of cloth and wrapped it again around his arm to obscure the pain. He was not the type to regret, he thought stubbornly.

A sudden tap he heard broke Draco's musings over his wound. He turned immediately to the door aside the glass bookcase. The sound came from in there, he was almost too sure. Draco's gaze traveled towards the floor where light could be seen coming from the room inside. There was only one person other than him who saw purpose for the use of that room. He knew almost automatically that she was there.

Draco stood up and approached the door. He readied himself for the scene he would most likely find Hermione in when he entered the room.

He envisioned the scene right then before he even held the doorknob. She would most likely be bending over a book trying to digest every single word written on it. Draco smirked, perhaps in the fashion that he would be when he got hold of an interesting book. His hand tightened on the brass doorknob as he held it and turned it finally pushing it open.

Of all the things he was thinking of to see, Draco was not ready however for the scene that caught his eyes when he opened the door.

The table was clear, there were no books or quills whatsoever on it. No parchments or scrolls or inkwells positioned on it, and the chair was clear. The lights in the room were dim so he could not see much; it was like an oddly lit chamber at the moment. Yet, it was not that which caught his attention. It was when he trailed his eyes to the balcony where he found an interesting scene. _She_ was standing by the balcony tightly grasping the stone ledge looking out at the sky; that same sky that he had previously been admiring. Her brown hair was swaying in the heavy wind parting and uniting with the heavy waves of the breeze, her white nightgown blown in the same fashion. She looked unmistakably like an angel, and if she opted to move onto the balcony ledge, Draco could not help but think that she would not fall. She would fly, because at that moment, she seemed like an entity too perfect to be human. Draco stopped; he had not imagined her that way when he opted to enter the room.

Hermione turned around as he entered the room, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took the sight of him in. He was of course, the last person he wanted to see then, and she could have easily said it… but, somehow, she found the sight of him meeting her gaze equally with none of the repulsion and disgust he would normally look at her with, was all the more comforting as it endured.

He looked into her eyes for a moment before finally tearing this gaze off her and taking a few steps into the room.

"What do you want?" asked Hermione as she regained her senses reentering the room from the balcony where she previously stood. Draco closed the door behind him and smirked.

"Shouldn't you be studying?" he said sarcastically as he took the seat by the desk and returning his attention back to her. Hermione glared at him as she retrieved her cloak from the coat rack by the door. Putting it on she looked back to him who sat cross-legged on the chair across the room twiddling his wand. The gesture irritated her to a point that she wanted to take his want from him and break it in half if she could, but she had control enough to stop herself.

"I'm surprised you're not," she said off-handedly turning her back to him looking at the various trinkets on the shelves on the side of the room while keeping an unapparent side glance in his direction. "You always seem to be a smart-arse all the time."

Draco clucked his tongue at her wit. "I'm glad you noticed, how's leprechaun boy? Getting along like the fool he is?" Hermione turned around and glared at him.

"For your information Malfoy, he's fine. He wrote half the observational report and read an awfully extensive reading source. Why is it, that you find such pleasure in making fun of Seamus all the time?" she said determinedly meeting his gaze with boldness.

"Perhaps you think I should stop Granger, now don't you?" he drawled as he shifted on the chair. Hermione looked at him curiously as he spoke in a languid manner.

"And if I did, which you know I do Malfoy, I hardly think that you would take that sort of advice… because it came from a mudblood of course," she snapped.

Draco nodded mockingly. "Well said Granger, and I agree, I would never, in my lifetime ever think of considering respecting Finnegan in any way. I don't pay tribute to nit-wits." he drawled mirthlessly. Hermione glared at him savagely.

"Seamus is conceivably not as much as a fool as you are Malfoy, I think he deserves much more credit than you. He certainly thinks is right to know a person before judging them," she said unwaveringly with her head raised. 

Draco flinched suddenly as the pain in his arm renewed discomfort. He forced the feeling down as he stood up abruptly, trying to ignore the throbbing in his arm. "Well good for him…" he said in an unusual voice. Hermione raised an eyebrow at him as she observed him closely. He had not turned his back to her, the action seemed peculiar to her for she never knew him to turn away from a conversation, no less a mild argument.

"Malfoy," she said. Draco turned back around at her with an expression of stubbornness. "What?" he said.

"Are you quite alright?"

Draco turned back away from her.  It was impossible to hide something under her eye, it seemed to him. He paced a few slow steps towards the balcony while tightly holding his injured arm trying to let the numbness dominate over the pain. "Why Granger, I've never been better," he said. It would have been better for him to leave, but… he would not allow her the satisfaction of having him walk out of a conversation. That would mean he was inferior to her, in the end, his stubbornness dominated.

Hermione grimaced as she opted to approach him, not thinking that a sensible thing to yet concluding that it was the only way just to be sure. Draco turned to her as she approached him and looked at her squarely. "I don't believe you," she said carefully seeing his eyes full of defiance.

Draco did not take his eyes off hers as she observed him, narrowing the gap between them.

"Why do you doubt me again, Granger?"

Hermione's eyes glimmered with amusement as she took the odd sight of him in. "You cannot even make an effort to be annoying anymore, there is definitely something wrong with you," Hermione's gaze fell to his arm, which he was obviously clutching tightly. He raised an eyebrow at her as she took a few steps more towards him. His gaze rested on her delicate features as she drew closer to him.

"What happened to your arm?" she asked genially as she opted to examine it. Draco stiffened uncomfortably as she reached out to touch his suffering limb. "Nothing," he muttered but did not attempt to take his arm away from her reach. There was an undeniable comfort that her touch provided that was so foreign to him, not even his mother provided him with such. Perhaps that was why he did not withdraw her hand immediately from her, because he had never known real comfort.

She took his arm delicately in hers and unfolded his black sleeve with care. Draco just watched her unravel the makeshift bandage he had made for himself. He looked mesmerized by her hands, which looked graceful as they unfolded the numerous layers of cloth that enclosed his cut, he wondered if she would make a fairly good medi-witch. As the cloth fell apart to unravel the wound, Hermione let out an audible gasp as she caught sight of Draco's wound. The long and evidently deep scarlet cut ran almost throughout his lower arm, the cut was thin and it looked fresh yet there were horrid bruises around the cut, a clear indication of the rough manner it had been incised. The contrast between his pallid white skin and the long cut was intense; it looked like there was an unearthly body that had set itself into his arm.

"Where did you get this?" asked Hermione unsteadily at the sight of the wound. She looked up at Draco as he answered her.

"The Siren… it cut me when I jumped into the lake," he replied, almost offhandedly refusing to look her in the eye.

Hermione looked back at the wound. "But this looks fresh, for the Siren to cut this it should have healed a little," she said. "Why didn't you go to the nurse?"

Draco looked down at his own arm before he answered her, his mind pondering on the statement she had just said. She was right; it should have healed long before…

"I didn't want anyone to know, it would reflect on our grade, if they found out I drowned a Siren. Not to mention saved Finnegan's piteous life by doing so," he said.

She looked up at him startled. "Count on you to pick the most inappropriate stances to be noble. Reflect on our grade indeed, is that all you think about Malfoy?" he smirked as she said this.

"That sounds funny," he sneered. "coming from someone like you…"

Hermione glared at him in a frivolous manner. "Think you're being funny Malfoy?" she held his arm a bit tighter as she pulled it slightly towards her to observe more closely. She was still perplexed about the fact that there were no signs of healing whatsoever.

Draco stared at the wound like her, not observing his own laceration but rather allowing himself the pleasure of her being that close to him, obviously feeling worried about him. He would never admit to finding that shallow fact pleasurable at all though.

"Would you mind?" she asked before squeezing his arm slightly. An ooze of blood trickled out from the cut as she did this. Malfoy flinched at the sudden pain. "I don't think I permitted you to do that," he said defiantly snatching his arm away from her, eventually discovering that the strain was hurting him even more. Hermione looked up at him. "If that does not heal in a week, I think you'd better bring it to the nurse."

Draco smirked. "It doesn't need a nurse." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"_It_ might not, but if you loose any more blood, you'll be the one in need of a nurse."

His proud stance did not disappear as he opted to wrap the wound up again but only caused himself more discomfort. Hermione could not help but smile. "Give it here Malfoy, I think you deserve at least a good dressing," she said. He glared at her but then eventually surrendered his bleeding arm to her. Withdrawing her wand from her pocket, she directed it at his limb and waved it genially; in a second, the stains the blood flow had made on his skin and on the cloth disappeared and as she waved her wand again, the cloth started to bind itself around Draco's arm. "There is a potion that could be useful for that… but—"

"One of the antiseptic concoctions, I know," said Draco as he pulled down his black sleeve over the wound.

Hermione nodded. "But as you know, it is unsafe to pour on incisions such as that, where the healing is very curious. However if you—"

Draco turned away from her and faced the balcony. "Don't concern yourself about me Granger, it's none of your business," he said rather coldly.

Hermione looked up at him startled. His cold stance had apparently returned and she was disturbed by his indifference, but in spite of this she still held herself in calmness. He was right after all; she did not have anything to do with him except for their responsibilities together. She moved back away from him, regaining the space in between the two of them; a space Hermione knew would always be there, no matter how close they stood beside each other.

"I couldn't have said it better Malfoy," she replied matching his bitter tone. She took a few strides back a little further before she walked calmly towards the door. Taking one last look at him she slipped out the door, silently regretting her foolish attempt to ever try to be civil with him.

Draco closed his eyes as she heard her leaving the room. Finally opening them and turning to the door when it closed on him. He turned away immediately and scolded himself for ever having looked back.

"What should we take? They're all just so magnificent," said Hermione as the three of them entered the carriage chamber of Brentenoux castle. Harry pocketed the key of the chamber as they closed the large door behind them entering the large stone room filled with magnificent carriages fit for royalty. The array of splendid vehicles reminded Hermione of a car warehouse only one which was classier.  

"What is this?" said Ron who entered the room in awe.

Harry walked through the hallway marveling at the wonderful carriages, some of them so marvelously gilded with gold and silver. "The castle parking space…" he said.

Hermione was in her own frenzy as well as she looked over one carriage after another. She could not simply begin to describe the elegance of the contraptions displayed before her, nor be sure of their presence in front of her. She did not ever think that she would ever see such magnificence displayed in mechanisms of transport.

"It's like entering a car park filled with hundred of Porsches, or Mercedes Benz… knowing you can take any one," exclaimed Hermione as she moved further into the room approaching Harry and Ron who had entered the long hall ahead of her.

"My dad would love going in one of those… whatever they are, you know him, all things muggle…" said Ron. Hermione and Harry looked at each other briefly and laughed. Harry approached Ron and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Ron, remember the Anglia?" he asked.

Ron looked at him perplexed. "Yes, who could forget?"

"I don't think you'd want your dad in a room full of Porsches any day."

Ron looked at Hermione. "A Porsche is a car, isn't it?" Hermione nodded with a smile.

"A very expensive one at that," she added. "And I'm not sure your mother would stand the sight of a car even near the burrow, considering of course..."

Ron cut a hand right in front of her face. "Yes of course Hermione, bring back the memorable moments of our free and careless youth," he said sarcastically. Harry grinned.

"I emphasize careless," retorted Hermione.

Ron turned to her. "I remember your scolding words four years ago Hermione, I don't think we deserve another rant after something that happened a long time ago. Besides Hermione—"

"We were desperate," Harry replied reminiscent of their childhood venture. Hermione stepped beside him.

"It was no excuse to be rash."

Harry nodded at her comment as they moved further into the hallway of carriages. "You're right of course," he admitted. Ron laughed out loud. (lol!)

"Everything she says is right now, ain't it Harry?" he whispered to his best friend who nudged him slightly in the ribs. "Oww."

"I still don't believe Fleur gave us the key to get in here, much less take one of the carriages," said Ron moving over to one white carriage with gold framework, he bended down slightly to trace the large circular cap covering the center of one of the carriages hind wheels. "This is gold alright, too much of it, put in one carriage."  

"If the Madame finds out how Fleur's independence has been running this castle, Mademoiselle Delacour is going to find 'erself in 'ot water," said Hermione with an imitation of Fleur's overwrought accent. Ron turned to her.

"Let's be thankful we found a free ride to Carrouges," said Harry. "And let's hurry and find one, fast, we're running out of time."

Hermione turned to the pair. "Wait, we're going to have trouble hiding the carriage, remember, the Brentenoux seal is on every single one of these things," Harry and Ron looked around and found that she was right.

Ron grinned as he though of an idea. "It's easy, we'll hide it in the forest. Lupin said that the tavern was an awful close distance to the forest, didn't he Harry?" Harry nodded. Hermione furrowed her brow.

"If we're going to hide the carriage in the forest, then we need to find a carriage that blends in with the woodland. Something that would not be detected by a hovering craft, something … green," observed Hermione. "That's what we need to take, a green carriage,"

Ron grimaced. "Fat chance we're going to find a green carriage."

"Here's one," said Harry from a few isles back. Hermione and Ron went over to him but then stopped as they saw the ride Harry was referring to. It was a beautiful shade of forest green, just right to keep in woodland; there was only one thing that made the trio reluctant to ride it. The framework of the carriage was lined with silver; the wheels, doorframe, window frames, all silver.

"It looks perfect," commented Hermione dryly. "So perfectly… Slytherin."

Ron snorted. "I am not riding in a green and silver carriage," he said with finality as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"I can't believe I rode in a green and silver carriage," exclaimed Ron as they entered the village casually. Harry and Hermione both smiled as he said this.

"A moment ago, I remember—" started Hermione only to be cut off by Ron.

"Yes, yes, I know what I said." the trio laughed languidly as they moved towards a street with busy wizards and witches going about their business. The wizarding dress fashion in France held very little difference to the wizarding community in England. The people around the village dressed themselves in robes and cloaks, only this community seemed to care more about jewels and accessories than anyone you would see walking around in Diagon Alley.

"What was the name of that tavern again?" Harry looked thoughtful as he remembered the name of the tavern Lupin had mentioned in his letter. "It sounded like _Le Pâté croûte _something… I can't remember."

Hermione looked thoughtful, she stopped for a moment to think… _Le_ _Pâté croûte…_ where had she heard that before. Hermione's thoughts instantly strayed to her first day in Brentenoux. When she first entered their room, there was the painting of the young girl in a riding habit… she remembered the girl as standing in front of a tavern. The tavern's name was… "Le Pâté en croûte Rétréci!" exclaimed Hermione.

Harry and Ron looked at her. "Yes, that was it," said Harry thankfully. "How did you know?"

Hermione continually looked thoughtful as they wandered down the street, "There is a painting, in my— our room with a girl standing by a tavern. The tavern's name was painted in as well," she smiled to herself. "Good thing I read it."

Harry raised his eyebrows a bit in thought. "The tavern was painted in the painting, so you remember how the scene looked like?" he asked.

Hermione nodded. "It was a narrow road, and beside the tavern, there was a rose bush, though I doubt if that will distinguish it. It was probably added just to add a little life into the picture." Harry acquiesced, "I see, anything else?"

"Yes," she exclaimed, as if remembering something very important. "From the tavern, there is a superb view of… Brentenoux castle!"

Ron stopped by one alley, and looked through it. "Ron, where are you off to?" said Harry.

"A view of Brentenoux castle, kind of like over here?" said Ron. Harry and Hermione hurried to his side and looked down the alley. There a view in the distant mountains was Brentenoux castle, with its white walls and blue rooftops. The trio entered the alley; the sight was rather desolate but not eerie at least. As they reached the end of the alley which brightened up with the absence of much more tall structures, they spotted a tavern with a sign printed out in golden letters; _Le_ _Pâté en croûte Rétréci'_

__

"Harry, so glad you could make it," Remus Lupin stood up from his chair to welcome the trio whom he had just spotted entering the tavern. Harry approached Lupin's table immediately and motioned to greet his father's friend. Hermione and Ron followed on behind looking abound in every direction of the room, observing the elegant nature of the place which Harry, in his anticipation of talking with Lupin had obviously overlooked.

The room was brightly lit, there were lamps almost at every corner and the ambiance of the place was surprisingly cheerful. All the while Hermione had expected the place to be pretty much like the Hogshead in Hogsmeade; she had not at all expected this. The place reminded her fondly of The Three Broomsticks, only with a little more brightness.

"This is a tavern?" asked Ron as he turned his head to observe the place.

"I'm beginning to realize why Fleur ever considered entering a tavern, if it was too unsophisticated enough for her presence, and her _le petit _nature," said Hermione as she approached the table with Ron. Lupin, who had heard what she had just said, smiled.

"You'd be surprised what unpleasantness Fleur can subject herself to…" said Lupin, Hermione looked up in surprise. "Hallo Hermione, Ron, I'm glad to see you again as well." The two of them took their seats on the table.

"I've been wondering where you've gone to during the last days of the summer vacation Remus, Mad-eye wouldn't even tell me, and every time I've got down to talking to Mundungus Fletcher, mum would shout at me she would," said Ron with an unpleasant look on his face, he looked like he was remembering one of those very occasions.

"So you've been here, all this time," started Harry as he looked around the tavern for the first time.

"Yes, I've never been assigned to travel so much in my life… though I think you could all understand why…" said Lupin pulling out his wand and conjuring up four goblets out in front of them. With another wave of his wand, the goblets filled with Butterbeer consequently. "Drink up."

"Yeah," said Harry taking a sip of his glass. "The occasion of the full moon, it comes much too often…"

Ron looked up from his drink and faced Lupin. "How do you handle full moon here anyway?" he asked curiously. Hermione nudged him a bit.

"Ron!" she exclaimed.

Lupin smiled. "No, it's alright Hermione, anyway I have really secure dwellings here. Uncharted of course, Dumbledore thankfully found me a place when he sent me here, and please don't ask any more questions beginning with why." He said quickly. Hermione sighed, she had been curious of why Lupin was in France. Perhaps in the most obvious sense; to protect Harry, but, surely Harry was probably safer in Brentenoux then in England at the moment. There had to be another reason why Lupin had been sent to France by Dumbledore, and by the looks of it, they weren't going to find out for a while.

"Fancy place here, for a tavern…" said Harry breaking the silence that Lupin had provided by blocking out all the questions they had intended to ask even before they had asked them. Lupin glanced at their surrounding company which seemed to bee too engrossed in their conversation to even notice them.

"Yes, probably a much more apt meeting place than the Hogshead, don't you think?" replied Lupin looking at the trio who's faces grew guiltily serious. "Well anyway, how are you three holding up there at Brentenoux?" asked Lupin.

"Wonderfully Moony, the place is a wonder," said Ron and turned to Harry who agreed with him. "I mean, our quarters are fit for royalty, the food's great and the staff…"

"Oh, you mean Fleur, don't you Ron?" asked Hermione with a smile. Ron glared at her.

Lupin nodded with a smile of conviction. "I see, Ms. Delacour's description of the castle is not at all flawed, perhaps, I should consider taking her invitation."

Harry looked at Lupin in half-surprise. "Fleur is inviting you to Brentenoux?" he said with a smile. Beside him Hermione let out a light laugh.

"She seems to think that Madame Morcenx' absence makes her in the position of full charge of the castle… therefore she is free to…"

"Fulfill her womanly desires," said Ron. Lupin looked at him broodingly as the trio laughed.

"I can assure you, Fleur's intentions to not include those which you have mentioned… She has been a charming acquaintance," replied Lupin.

"Yeah, right," coughed Ron.

"Harry, there was something you intended to ask me, was there?" continued Lupin.

Harry looked down as he mused, before looking back up at Lupin who now looked at the young boy with a look of seriousness. Ron and Hermione glanced at one another, each wondering what Harry wanted to know.

"Yes Remus, there was."

Draco stepped out of the staircase of his quarters at it finally escalated onto the floor below him. He was in the circular room, filled with staircases and with many other students who crossed the room to and fro their quarters. He looked up towards the doorway and spotted Blaise waiting for him with calmness in her features. Her red auburn hair cascaded freely down her back that day, and her azure eyes glistened in the bright light of the room. She was wearing a long black skirt and a fit black blouse with leather boots to match. The classic ebony-themed attire set a perfect contrast to her pale skin and sharp Italian features. She was a vision of perfection to a man of his stature; yet, her perfection was never an appeal to him. It did not draw him like it did the other Slytherin boys; it was proof of how Draco was strangely more unlike them than it seemed.

Draco took a breath in as he approached her, ignoring the whispering girls around the room looking at him. Staring as if he was a god, Draco thought wryly to himself, what a pleasure it was to be around women who hated him, but because looked like the ideal man, could not resist flaunting him. He knew it was sort of an incessant torture to all those girls. But, no matter, he did not mind any other person that day; all he was to concern himself about was she.

Blaise looked up at his face with a smile as he came to a halt in front of her. "I thought it was in the nature of women to keep men waiting," she said teasingly, as the two of them started to walk out of the hall, not minding the fact that most of the other students in the room were eyeing them with looks of envy.

"Excuse me this time," he said serenely. Blaise turned to him with a surprised look, she almost couldn't remember when was the last time that she had heard him speak in such a tranquil manner and with words of apology as well. It also seemed ages since they had talked to each other decently.

"You seem to be in a good mood, may I ask what good fortune you have encountered lately?" she asked.

Draco turned to her and smirked. "Nothing in particular, perhaps it's the fact that I have not caught sight of my air-headed group mates all day, nor have I been forced to associate with them. Now is that not a cause for celebration?"

Blaise nodded. "Yes… well, I haven't had to talk to Bulstrode all day either and Goyle, perhaps the gods have spared me their ill-begotten presence for this day considering of course that Bulstrode was the real reason our group almost got lost in the Laberinth yesterday, Goyle did not do anything to help, except of course cry for his mother, and also, that nit-wit Longbottom, a maladroit fool if I ever saw one, perhaps his only use was having plotted the Laberinth as far as we went."

"I doubt, Longbottom's data will be accurate, precision is obviously not his strongpoint," drawled Draco as they entered the Grand Dining Hall, the both of them headed towards the large atrium outside the Dining hall. "Though, I gather, Bulstrode and Goyle will be any more accurate than Longbottom," he added with a smirk raising his arm curiously and rubbing it slightly. Blaise caught the gesture and wondered if he had been wounded, but brushed off the thought immediately. If he were indeed wounded, he would have reasons not so show her.

"Well, it is merely a challenge I have to endure, though I have to admit, being in a group with those three is the worst sort of torture I can think about, or perhaps your encounters with the Gryffindors have been worse," said Blaise exasperatedly.

"A most vexing fact, my dear," replied Draco.

Blaise laughed lightly as they crossed the edge of the great dinning hall. "And how so my dear Malfoy? Pray tell."

"Well, Finnegan has been more of a fool, he now claims to have written our observational report, and I doubt if that document will have much sense provided it was written by a fool such as him."

Blaise smiled, "We're even."

"Yes, perhaps in misfortune we are," snorted Draco.

"You seem to have forgotten to relay how that mudblood Granger's acting around darling, I'm sure she's an equal vexation…"

Draco bent his head and turned away from the observing gaze of his girlfriend for a moment before nodding. "She is being the usual know-it-all, as you know Granger always is. She has been the emanating source of my annoyance for this entire project. Associating with her has been the worst task I have willed myself to do," he said with much conviction. Blaise smiled and agreed with him.

"What misfortune it is for you to have to see and talk to her everyday Draco, I shall hope she does not soil you with that inborn mudblood filth of hers. Why, you would loose your perfection… and she would be to blame," Draco looked at the floor for a moment before nodding. He was beginning to wonder, why it did not please him as it did before to hear diatribe directed at Granger. Surely he could not be seriously considering that she did not deserve all those remarks, after all, it was true, she was a mudblood. In his eyes, she was to deserve nothing less.

The couple entered the atrium and observed the open hallways all around the chamber. "Are you well acquainted with the castle already?"

Draco shrugged. "Unfortunately not, so far my ventures have been merely to the library, and back to the rooms," Blaise raised an eyebrow at him and laughed lightly.

"Draco, that, as you know, for you can hear yourself, is utterly impossible," replied Blaise. She caught his arm and pulled him towards one of the hallways in the atrium, "You couldn't keep in one place if your life depended on it, come on, and let's find a place to talk. I'm sure this castle, has more than libraries and drawing rooms." Draco breathed in as he let her lead him into the hallway. He felt a strange pang of guilt as he crossed the hall with her, wondering why he felt as if he had betrayed an important cause.

On skies of the school, increasingly thick black clouds hovered threateningly, from which heavy rain fell endlessly. The castle was silent, though the outside winds thrashed about drumming against its stonewalls with an air of nefariousness.  

There was a room a few levels above the main hall of the castle; there was a light on, the only lit room among all of the rooms in the castle. The lamplight flickered dully in the darkness of the headmaster's office as the door opened. A brisk flutter of clothing was heard before the door closed again. The headmaster looked up from his desk as another crash of thunder struck the rooftops of the castle.

"Professor McGonnagal," said Dumbledore thoughtfully pushing away all the envelopes that graced his desktop. Pulling off her damp hood, McGonnagal approached the headmaster's table hurriedly and immediately took the seat before him as he indicated her to make herself comfortable. "You're just in time."

"I came as soon as I've heard. Arabella is in her room writing the necessary letters, she started as soon as we returned," said McGonnagal impatiently as Dumbledore nodded.

"Yes yes, see that she sends then duly, after this weather clears," McGonnagal breathed in a breath of nervousness.

"After, the rain stops… Albus, we have no time," said McGonnagal. "I fear what damage this… this thing can cause if we act to late. I think you know very well—"

"The owls won't hold up in this weather will they Minerva? And I cannot send anybody to deliver them personally, I need you all here at Hogwarts," replied Dumbledore lightly. McGonnagal wondered how in the world could Dumbledore keep his voice sounding calm when they had a dangerous situation in their hands.

McGonnagal stood from her chair impatiently. "How could this happen Albus? Harry Potter is in France—"

Dumbledore turned to her. "It knows that."

McGonnagal looked at him curiously. "Then why?"

"This entity, a dark creature most likely has another purpose here," replied Dumbledore. "In another sense, it has another target. This creature does not seek Harry Potter."

McGonnagal mused as the headmaster spoke. Another target, who could it possibly be? Perhaps no other force but the Dark Lord could not have sent this entity, though there was an obscure possibility to it. But still, if Harry Potter was not what it looked for, then who? Professor McGonnagal also wondered how this creature, whatever it was had entered the school premises, after all, it were not possible for anybody who was not recognized by the school to enter the castle undetected. It was never in Voldemorts tactical pattern to assign a minion to perform an attack he dearly wanted done, but rather, he was the type to trick, to lure his prey into his clutches. It did not make sense. 

"Albus, if not Potter, then who? You must at least have some idea who this… this creature wants, and why."

Dumbledore looked up at her with a serious look.

"I have, for quite some time, had a particular idea of why. Yet, it is merely the question of who," said Dumbledore looking thoughtful still.

"But Albus, you know very well that this person in question must be found at once, or at least before this… creature performs it's purpose. If not, who knows what could happen to him," McGonnagal stormed nervously.

Dumbledore stood up unexpectedly and paced towards the Fawkes perch, which was currently empty. "Minerva, I've found a very interesting fact that may help us." McGonnagal looked up and raised her eyebrow.

"And what may that be Albus?" she asked curiously.

"You remember Minerva, a few years ago Voldemort opened the Chamber of Secrets… Well, he, then, was merely a memory," said Dumbledore observing the empty perch nonchalantly as if recalling a distant reminiscence. "Hogwarts since the end of Harry's first year has been guarded more intensely because of Voldemort's reappearance in this very school. I have personally seen to it, as you and all the other Professors know. Since then, as everyone has observed, the Dark Lord has not attempted to attack from within the school since. And, thus, if the Dark Lord could not penetrate Hogwarts, what other dark entity could?"

McGonnagal's eyes lit up. "Are you meaning to imply that, this entity, who is currently in the school is a memory? But how could it have the mind to draw up its existence?"

"Not a memory exactly, perhaps something else… a sort of record. As for its existence, as to who would draw it up… there is a simple explanation to that. The simple fact that it wouldn't have to draw up its existence, no living creature can draw up his own existence," said Dumbledore facing Professor McGonnagal.

She gave him an inquisitive look. "Then how so?"

"It wouldn't have to preserve itself in a memory if, and that is, if it was preserved by someone else, who would have the mind and power over it. Now perhaps I have given you an idea of what we are up against, so enough of this, I fear the matter we have to concern ourselves with, is to find out this creatures' mind source."

McGonnagal looked startled. "Mind source? You mean someone is controlling it? Within the school?" she said as if in shock. Dumbledore nodded. "Surely no student… impossible!"

"No," the headmaster shook his head wryly. "I have the greatest feeling, that this dark creature's mind source, is also its target."

"How could that be? Unless…" Professor McGonnagal stopped and thought for a moment. "Albus, you are thinking that this creature is a magical feeder, are you not?"

"Yes, Minerva, it has been a matter I have been pondering over for some days now. Yet, the fact that this entity is a minion of the dark, that would mean that if it wields dark magic; it would require a mind source who is versed, if not, has encountered dark magic at one point or another," said Dumbledore. "Thus, it's mind source is a very powerful wizard… or witch. It is possible that he or she is not aware of this simple fact."

"But why would this creature want to target someone who supplies him with his life, would not that mean his own life in the balance."

"Well, yes, but it is not a question of its life Minerva, for the nature of its vileness would not place importance on it. But as long as it has carried out its purpose, it's life would be a small price to pay," Dumbledore paced slowly back to his desk and motioned for McGonnagal to take her seat once more. She sat down and thought.

The matter at hand was increasingly confusing. How were they supposed to know who this person was when the clues were so extremely obscure? It would be a miracle if one of the Hogwarts student body would come to them and admit they had anything to do with the Dark Arts. It would be even more difficult, for not even the Mind Source himself did not know that his life was now in jeopardy.

"We have to find this student, if we do not prevent these dangers he is to befall… I could only fear, that it would be the end of Hogwarts," Dumbledore looked at her with intense graveness.

"If my suspicions are correct Minerva, it would most likely be the end of much more than that."

The rain did not fall less hard on Wiltshire that night, nor on Aviemore Vale which was hidden among its mountains. Among the vast meadows of Aviemore, there was only one structure visible in the misty night, when the weather's intensity wrought its caustic havoc. The dark ancient structure surrounded by lavish courtyards and fields, sticking out from the ground with enormous spires reaching to the heavens. It was a sight to behold, although there was more to this enormous mansion than the eye could see.

The manor's master sat up awake that night, nowhere near his bed that night. Sitting on the drawing room's desk scribbling away on pieces of parchment and then inserting them in envelopes, dripping wax and sealing them with a silver ring, which glittered prominently on his right ring finger. The ring's emblem featured a prominent  _'M'_ surrounded by a double circle with tiny runes printed in between them. The emblem, which now appeared upon the sealed letters, letters that, would be sent away immediately in dire preparation of his anticipated 'occasion'.

He did not need sleep then, nor did he need his wife's presence to bother him as he worked that night. His task was to result in happenings of far more importance than his own current pleasures, and for then, sacrifices had to be made.

As a violent crash of thunder racked the rooftops of the enormous manor, the doors of the drawing room creaked open slowly letting in a sudden burst of wind, which attracted Lucius Malfoy's sharp awareness. He looked up from his work, though he did not turn around to face the doors. The sound of boot heels clapping on the stone floor echoed throughout the drawing room as he turned back to his work still not turning to see who had invaded his solitude that night. He knew very well that there was only he and his wife in the manor that night, of course with the exemption of the servants who had no business in his personal drawing room unless called upon. He did not call upon anyone that night; he needed seclusion.   

"Narcissa, I told you to leave me alone tonight," said Lucius in a blatantly clear tone. The footsteps grew stronger as they approached him, sitting bent over the lavishly crafted oak desk. "I am preoccupied tonight, you may have to share your bed alone," he continued as the footsteps drew closer to the desk, until they came to a halt. A sweep of heavy fabric brushing on the floor was heard before a familiar voice spoke.

"Funny, Lucius, I should have thought you one of the last people on earth to think that I have any whatsoever resemblance to my dear sister…" said a high and scathing voice echoing in the room as it spoke.

"What the…" Lucius Malfoy looked up once more and immediately turned around to see her looking down at him with a derisive smile.

"Bella…"

_I shut the soft seductive music out of my hearing. _

_I thought only of his mind, and I searched it and found _

_there nothing but what he had just said to me, and behind it, _

_an Order of scholars as he had described it, _

_a seeming wonder of men and women who wanted only to know, _

_and not to destroy._

_Anne Rice_

_Blood and Gold_


	8. The Mistress Raven

_… Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,_

_By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,_

_"Through thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou" I said, "art sure no craven,_

_Ghastly grim and ancient Raven, wandering from the nightly shore—_

_Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"_

_Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." _

_Chapter Eight: The Mistress' Raven_

For many years then, in a dark desolate nesting beneath the rooftops of Azkaban prison, there lingered a black-birch raven with its perfect ebony feathered body, and bright intense yellow eyes that stood out in the darkness of its desolate dwellings. For fifteen years it watched over its mistress who dwelled also within the prison and its cold stonewalls, its ghastly conditions, which she endured for the longest time. It was curious that this beautiful creature had lived so long, not even loosing one bit of usefulness it held when the mistress first made him her servant. A blurry memory she held in the past when she had first come to her husband's house and had been appalled by the curious death of all the owls she had brought to the dreadful place. But then she uncovered this creature's existence in her midst when she found out that this raven had been the cause of her messenger's demises. At first she had planned to kill this nuisance but then tried to prove if she could find it useful. The mistress was clever; she tried, in every way to use everything to her advantage. It was a wise way of living, selfish, but wise.

Her pet, this mysterious reliable creature devoted to her, had watched her all those years since she kept him and it still watched her, even in her seclusion, for it believed that his mistress would be free again someday, just as it was free to fly. But throughout the years she was imprisoned, her pet fashioned itself imprisoned as well as it watched over her, never leaving her, staying ever devoted.

There were the days when its mistress was free, before her capture when she supposedly lost her emanating glory. The days when she had been her carefree self, being the charming and deadly woman she was, when she had succumbed to power, her first and true love. Yes power, something the mistress loved dearly, something that kept her alive all those long years of supposed punishment. Those days she of then recalled, those days when she was a drifter through eternity, a spy among other hearts, and as she had become all these things, she had enjoyed every single moment of it. It was there along with her… being her emissary, her own spy, even her confidant. It's loyalty to her was endless and as she secluded herself within the walls of her cell it somehow knew that it was one of the many that believed that as though she looked dead and hopeless in her dwellings; there was still the life and spirit she had once displayed, waiting to be awakened… once again.

One stormy night in the month of October, in the midst of the prison, she manipulated her destiny as she broke away from the coils and bonds, which held her to her captivity. Her mind and body answered to a call, a careful whisper to her senses, which told her that she was needed. She escaped her imprisonment with all of them, all her master's minions, and throughout it all, her most devoted servant was there to witness it all, and along with her commit her devious escape.

Yet there was the subtle irony of it all, when all those minions, and her were returned back to their desolate dwellings, the prison Azkaban. Now she had attempted escape again, on her own… now she was free, she alone was free. What better way to take advantage of her freedom but to cast herself in the way she had always been. An assassin…

Harry bolted up in bed in an instant as he breathed in slow puffs. A stream of frantic visions ran briskly in front of his eyes even though they were wide open. He reached out slowly and grasped the air in the darkness he was seeing as if he was trying to grasp a bit of reality, a sort of variation from the surreal dream state from which he had just awaken from.

The dream. He could still recall his dream after a few seconds where in his mind flickered visualizations of a stormy night and a tall stone structure he had never seen before… An immense castle with various spires sticking out to the heavens. But there was something else, something he could not make sense of. The most lucid vision his dream held was the sight of a hooded figure, heading towards the enormous fort. Harry rubbed his forehead hardly; his scar was aching again. Was the hooded figure in his dream Voldemort? Where was he? Was it possible that this castle was his hide away?

Just then his read rang with the voices he had recalled to hear in his dream. A haven, where that of your own blood dwells, where you find yourself… said a voice, a scathing and hateful voice that he could not recognize, but he was certain he had heard before. If it was Voldemort, he could probably determine his whereabouts, and tell Remus. No, that would not end it, he thought. Dumbledore had told him clearly enough; it was his task to get rid of Voldemort, no one else's.

Harry let out a groan as his scar seared in an intensity once more. It was becoming hard to think with the increasing pain in his forehead, but he knew he had to grasp the meaning of his dream.

Voldemort could be hiding somewhere, in a castle, a tall structure surely. But where? Harry wondered for a moment if it could actually be Voldemort. There was a chance that it was not; perhaps, it was something he wanted Harry to see. Yet it did not make any sense; the Dark Lord's visions often involved something wanting, persuasive. What could this mean? Harry recalled the visions of his dream. A tall fort surrounded with tall spires… and the figure storming thorough the hills towards the tall structure. Who was the hooded figure he had seen? Harry was sure that he had something to do with the Dark Lord, or it was possible that it could be Voldemort himself. He had to know whom he had seen.

"Bella…"

Bellatrix Lestrange smiled amusedly at the sight of Lucius Malfoy sitting before her with an expression of mild shock. She bent her head forward letting a few strands of her black hair falling to her face, sticking to her white skin, which was wet with the pouring rain. Her thin lips were set in a derisive smile, which glorified her sharp features. It seemed a marvel to Lucius that she should retain such an air of modishness when she had just come from a horrid place as Azkaban.

"Lucius," she started, her smile widening. "You say my name with such passion, should I be flattered," she said in a patronizing tone. Lucius Malfoy stood up from his chair and looked at her tall form before him, regarding him with all the more attention than required. She was back, there, with him… finally.

"Passion Bellatrix, in the most innocent sense," said Lucius returning her smile. It had been four months since he had last seen her, yet she was the same. It seemed as if she had not been back to Azkaban at all, for she retained the elegant, dark beauty she had almost lost in isolation for so many years.

She laughed shrilly, and then looked back into his dark silvery eyes. "Innocence, how dare you incorporate innocence in our conversation Lucius… and further more, refer it to myself… and worse, to you," she said and then pushing him away mockingly. Lucius mused, she was right. After all, all they had ever known together in the past had been guilty pleasures. Innocence could never portray either of them. "You cheated Lucius, you had me mad for company. I didn't think that it would take my murder of those rubbish mudbloods to catch your attention. You owe me four months of company,"

Lucius Malfoy smirked. "Perhaps, you know me better than to merely expect me to provide you with companionship. Don't think I haven't forgotten the sort of greedy woman you are" he replied teasingly as he stepped towards her again and ran a long finger through the length of her slender jaw line. "And what lustful thoughts you always have running through your head," Her smile widened in satisfaction.

"You are indeed clever, my Lord Malfoy. Well, now, will you not even attempt to ask me how I did it?" asked Bellatrix as she pulled off her wet cloak and let it fall carelessly to the floor.

"Come now Bella, we are children no more, the means of which you had satisfied your killer instinct does not matter no longer for you are here, are you not? You shall now be devoted, to the purpose of our lord," said Lucius as he observed her rugged garments, her plain black coat hanging over her shoulders and underneath, a plain black shapeless robe, which extended until her feet. "Where have you come form?" he asked her.

Bellatrix smirked; she started pacing around him and then towards his desk where she peered over his work. "You know where I've come form, Lucius, don't ask silly questions,"

Lucius rolled his eyes as he turned around to face her. "I was asking if you had returned to the Lestrange house, and perhaps changed into a more fitting attire, honestly," he said. Bellatrix pouted at him as she propped herself on top of Lucius desk. "A more fitting attire?" asked Bellatrix putting on a guiltless face. "I didn't think we needed to dress at all for this occasion," she said playfully. Lucius smirked and then sat back down on his chair carefully observing the woman sitting before him. He had never considered taking his own wife's sister as his mistress, considering as well that she was married herself, yet consideration was not an object. That kind of occurrence was spontaneous, even before Bellatrix was married to Rodolphus Lestrange, a very good friend of his, he already began to see the character in her which Narcissa only had fragments of. Yet, his wife had her own bursts of temperament, they were all that way, the Black sisters, with the exemption of course of foolish little Andromeda. But he never blamed Narcissa for being his wife, if he had ever desired Bellatrix Black more than her sister; was it not only right for him to blame himself for not asking her in her first place. After all, a Malfoy never regrets.

But things were as they were, he did not ask her not because he did not want to, but because it was only right that he did not own her, for he knew, she never belonged to anybody. Not even her husband. Lucius could never tolerate that sort of independence. Never… He had chosen the right wife… and he had chosen the right mistress…

"That, is a most inappropriate thing to say, in this case," said a light voice from the door with a tone of pure distaste. Lucius turned back around and saw the lucid form of his wife standing at the doorway and sending a blank stare at the both of them. Her hair was gleaming in the torchlight of the hallway in which she had come from, and more eminently, her eyes were more vividly azure than usual. He was certain of the envious mood he had put her in; he almost regretted his carelessness.

"And so it is," said Lucius as his wife leant off the doorframe and took a step into the room.

Bellatrix looked up as well, and smiled at the sight of her sister. She was acting as if nothing had been said; her impassiveness was another thing Lucius admired.

"I was jesting, you know that Narcissa," said Bellatrix amusedly as she lifted herself off the table and approached the doorway to greet her sister. Lucius grimaced; it was times like these when he was thankful that they were sisters, perhaps least likely to tear each other apart. Or perhaps more…

Narcissa smiled bitterly as her sister approached her. "Yes well, I may know better than to believe you," she said waving off her sister's embrace. Bellatrix frowned. " A joke Bellatrix, as you know," she said mockingly.

Bellatrix breathed in slowly and decided to let her sister off for then. She walked casually into the room with Narcissa who had a serious eye on her husband. "Why, I have never expected infidelity of my Lord Malfoy, Bellatrix, not even of you," said Narcissa in a voice dripping with sarcasm. Lucius observed his wife with a careful eye before turning back to his desk sealing the last letter in his hand.

Bellatrix raised her eyebrow at her sister's comment before turning towards the door.

"Well, this is a wonderful family gathering, but alas, I must away for the moment. I shall be dressing, for I don't think your Lord Malfoy enjoys my informal attire," she said stiffly as she turned halfway back to address her sister and her husband. "You need not worry yourselves, I shall make my presence scarce in the preponderance of the time as not to arouse suspicion,"

Narcissa moved over to her husband's side as Bellatrix approached the entrance of the drawing room. Lucius looked up at her calmly and instantly recognized the wild streak of envy in her eyes, something of course she would not admit to if ever he pointed it out. She then called upon her sister just before she exited the hall.

"Bellatrix, before you go…" she turned back to her husband with eagerness. "There is something Lucius wishes you to do for him," Bellatrix looked back with a curious eye. Lucius held the same inquisitive stance. "A favor if you may,"

"Which is?" asked Bellatrix.

"What are you trying to do?" hissed Lucius as his wife and sister looked upon him. Narcissa smiled as she turned back to her sister.

"He wishes you to help him, fit in the last piece of the puzzle,"

The October sky ran with deep orange and red streaks as the sun commenced its decent into the west. The bright warmly colored leaves rustled loudly as the wind blew with greater intensity as the hour grew later, and on the bright leafy hills of the west Brentenoux field there, laughter could be heard. Laughter of three intimately connected friends, giggling and rolling around in the piles of leaves acting like children of six, when they were adults of sixteen. Being happy, for reasons not mainly concerning good fortune, not it was far from that, perhaps they were merely thankful. They were thankful of the time they had together, time they still had to share.

Harry looked up from the pile of dried leaves that Hermione had so purposefully pushed him in, and took time to adjust his glasses looking up just in time to see her and Ron approaching him with another gathering of leaves. "Oh no," he exclaimed as he stood up just in time to make a quick dash before they reached him.

As there remained a shower of sun colored leaves in the air, the lively naïve laughter of the three of them rang throughout the air. It was a remarkable experience, a sort of carefree fun that only came in occasions for them. Something that was regretfully starting to become seldom, though they were grateful, it was something that still existed. A joy so intense that was brought by something as simple as friendship… Perhaps, though they knew their bond to be strong, they never did know how lucky they really were, and maybe, they never would.

"Harry you're sitting on my foot," said Ron as he stuck his head out of the pilling that had started to form on his face. Harry immediately shifted out of his spot with a slight laugh.

"Sorry mate, you know, you look like part of the ground when you sit like that," said Harry indicating Ron's fiery hair and rosy complexion, which seemed camouflaged with the red and orange leaf coated ground. Hermione laughed out loud at Harry's comment and eventually the three of them found themselves laughing loudly once more.

"Think you're being funny Potter?" said Ron as he took another shot at Harry who ducked in time.

Hermione grabbed a handful of withered foliage an aimed it at Harry as well who in turn attacked her with his own gatherings. She laughed all the way was Harry chased her and then running back to where Ron was sitting with leaves in his hair, she threw a bunch on him as well.

"Harry James Potter," said Hermione as she turned with a wide smile to her pursuer. Harry looked at her with as wide a smile, "Among all the Quidditch players I've known… you are positively," she stopped to laugh for a moment. Harry stopped and then moved in to tackle her; he pushed her to the soft ground and then laughed as well. He held himself over her for a moment and the when he was caught off guard, she turned him over so that she was the one over him. Hermione grasped a few more leaves from the ground and then threw it over the both of them. "The only one who takes most fondness to the ground," she said finally. Harry smiled as Hermione lay down beside her. Ron was approaching them with a wide smile; he looked at the sight of the both of them sprawled on the ground laughing. He took a deep breath before sitting back down on the ground beside Harry.

Hermione leant on her side and sat up as Harry did. The three of them were facing the descending sun as it started to sink back down into the West Mountains of Les Avaloires; it was a sight to behold. Hermione never knew that it would probably be the last of the sunsets the three of them would have the pleasure of watching while they were still at France.

"I wish it would always be like this," said Hermione not taking her eyes off the glorious radiating lights of the twilight. "Always carefree, never having anything to do with fighting, and evil,"

Ron nodded, "Never having to do with plots and schemes," Harry smiled.

"Never having to bleed, hurt and cry," added Hermione in a more serious tone. She glanced at Harry momentarily and observed his smile slowly disappearing.

"Never having to loose the people we love," said Harry sullenly. Hermione and Ron turned to him.

"Yes, Harry… never again having to loose anyone again," said Hermione softly as she turned back to the glorious view. She felt for Harry, in the deepest sense. But she never knew how to comfort him, not because she didn't know him, but simply because… she never really knew how he really felt. She had never been deprived of anything in her life, not like him, not of parents, not of freedom, not of love… especially love, something perhaps, something that Harry probably craved more than anything from the people around him, except from his friends; her and Ron. Something she had always thought of to be so limitless, but something he had never really felt in extremity.

"Harry," said Hermione softly facing him. "Why do you think Lupin didn't want you to know?" she finished as he glanced at her for a moment and then turned away.

"I don't know…" he replied lightly bringing up his knees to his chest and positioning his elbow on top of them. "But, maybe… he had a pretty good reason, for not telling me…"

Ron patted Harry on the back and smiled at his best friend. "Harry, would it really make any difference?" Harry bent his head solemnly in obvious contemplation.

"If I knew where my parents were buried?" he said in a far off voice as if he was asking himself the same thing at that very moment. There was a short silence before Harry spoke. He had never really thought of it till then, and when he had asked anyone anything, it was really with purpose. Harry remembered how Lupin tried to deny him that information easily when they met him in Carrouges the day before. "I… I don't think that it's the right time Harry," Harry found it rather inappropriate that he chose that time of all times to ask someone that very question, a time when he was miles away from Hogwarts, from England for that matter, he hadn't known why it had taken him six years to think of that very question. But then, when he had finally asked it, Lupin had refused to tell him. He did not have very high hopes that when he would ask, he would know at once but, at that very moment in the tavern, he had wanted to argue and bite back and say "Sirius would have told me," but thought against it, he swallowed immediately holding back a bitter sob, Sirius wasn't there to tell him anything anymore…

"I don't know Ron," he answered finally.

Hermione eyed him with sympathy, though she was thankful that he did not look at her knowing that he did not want anybody to ever feel sorry for him. "Harry, don't worry about it. I'm sure Lupin didn't want you to go chasing after some things that would not really matter…"

Harry nodded slowly, admitting to himself just as much. Hermione was right, if he ever did get to see his parent's graves, nothing he could say could ever really bring them back. Harry smiled sadly to himself; perhaps he was just wielding himself on the fantasy that he would feel closer to them. He knew Lupin feared his recklessness, the possibility that Harry might go looking for the place where his parents were buried was great; he had to admit that to himself. Maybe, Remus was right, maybe, it was not the right time.

"Yeah," he muttered. "I had a dream last night," continued Harry suddenly remembering. Ron and her looked back at him again in an urgency as he spoke those words.

"What was it about?" asked Ron curiously.

Harry looked deep in concentration, recalling the visions in an empathic manner "I saw a castle, a dark castle," the sight flashed briskly before his eyes as if he was there, "From the view of a distant hill. There was this hooded person running, running to the fort, through the rain. I don't know why, but there was this bird following him, flying through the stormy weather,"

Hermione crinkled her nose as she thought about what he had just said. "A castle? What did it look like?"

Harry recalled again. "It was vast, from where I saw… There were so many spires sticking our from the main obstructions enclosing the structure… And it was dark, gloomy," Harry shook his head as he thought about it.

Hermione was slightly bothered by how Harry had mentioned the dreary appearance of the structure in his dream. She creased her forehead as she always did when she was trying to remember something. She remembered a book she had read: Salient Structures, A Comprehensive Collection of Wizard Architecture in England. She made a mental note to herself to seek out that book later.

"That person, who was heading towards the castle. Do you think he was… You-Know Who?" said Ron weakly. "This isn't… it isn't real is it?"

"Either Voldemort's playing a trick on me, or it's real… I thought it was Voldemort as well," said Harry. "It isn't that, It the dream, I could hear this voice, calling. He was saying something about a haven or something like that," Harry closed his eyes as he tried to remember what the voice had said, "A haven, a place where your own blood dwells, over and over again. But, I knew the voice, I've heard it before, I'm sure of it … I just don't know who…" Harry stopped to look at Hermione's surprised face. She looked at him with wide eyes…

"Harry, if this person was indeed the Dark Lord, what would those words mean," said Hermione.

"A place where your own blood dwells," repeated Harry.

"Could it mean, a family home?" suggested Hermione.

Ron shifted uncomfortably. "Voldemort hasn't any living relatives, does he?"

"Not that we know of," said Hermione. Indeed if he had, he didn't think the Dark Lord would fancy the company of his father's family, after all they were dead, and he hated them. No; his mother perhaps. Hermione wondered if Voldemort had ever tried to find the family of his mother. "Harry, I wonder if this person, the one you saw heading to the castle isn't Voldemort at all,'

"But who else?" asked Ron, Harry turned to look straight ahead to the skies with a serious look.

"We have to think… Voldemort can't have any family, or even think of seeking shelter with them if he had. Not that he would lower himself and seek for help,"

Hermione mused for a moment and then looked back at Harry who was staring into the distance. "It has to be a servant,"

"A servant on the run no doubt," added Ron.

Hermione nodded and then looked up,

"Voldemort has only three servants at hand now," she said looking at the boys. "Pettigrew, who would have no reason to be out, even on the Dark Lord's orders. Not that he would ever trust him personally with an important task. Lucius Malfoy who is clearly avoiding scandal to clear his name from the occurrences in June and… one left,"

"Bellatrix, Belatrix Lestrange." finished Harry.

Harry turned to Hermione with a serious eye.

Hermione exited the encasement of the stairway and slid into the dimness of their living quarters. She pulled off the warm blue scarf from her neck and pulled off her mittens before she took a seat on one of the leather couches. Looking up at the dark dusky ambiance of the sky starting to light up above her with stars, she remembered her afternoon out in the fields with Harry and Ron with a peaceful air of thinking. Hermione looked up suddenly in the dimness of the room as the sound of a door opening from above was heard. She stood up quickly as she caught sight of the two figures standing by the balcony and rushed towards the study.

"Draco darling, are you quite sure you would not prefer the night spent in my room?" said an acrid voice from the balcony. Hermione stood in the darkness of the study unable to close the door with the risk that she might be heard. She caught sight of Blaise Zabini descending the length of the long staircase with Malfoy cooing sickeningly over him like a lost puppy with a white hand fondling his collar playfully.

"Not tonight," he said flatly as they reached the den. Blaise pouted as the let go of his collar.

"Well, perhaps another time, it is a Sunday after all… I'll let you off this time," she said brushing her lips over his cheek.

Hermione turned around immediately at the sight of them through the slight space in the open door, and scolded herself inwardly for thinking the sight disturbing in the senses it should not have been. She stood in her place not wanting to arise the attention of the couple in the den but found it very hard to restrain herself from shutting the door forcefully behind her on the both of them. Her heart was beating in trepidation, but she was uneasily wondering to herself if it was because she was in fear of discovery or if was for some other entirely different reason.

"Oh how very thoughtful of you," said Draco as he turned away from her pacing slowly in the opposite direction. Blaise immediately came towards him from behind and seized his waist pressing herself on his back. He was about to react when he heard the slightest sound of shifting coming from the door before him. Draco curiously observed the slightly open door and was sure that from that distance, one could have a very good view of him and Blaise. He smirked, having an idea of who was inside the study room. He immediately turned around and took delicate hold of his girlfriend's face, eventually bending down to capture her lips in a hungry ravenous kiss. Blaise' eyes went wide, and then she shut them to relinquish the feeling of having him kiss her in such a manner which probably was never endured by any other girl on campus. Boy was she wrong.

"Darling…" breathed Blaise as he broke the kiss and looked into his eyes. "That was—" Draco held a finger to her lips to silence her. He took quick strides towards the door and laid a light grasp on the doorknob. Blaise looked at him curiously.

Hermione turned away once more at the sight of Blaise and Malfoy sharing a desirous kiss. She bit her lip as her back was to the door experiencing an unexplainable emotion that she forced herself to interpret as mere disgust that the couple would choose the den of their quarters to share such sensual moments for she refused to pass off her misgivings as jealousy, no… jealous of Malfoy, she exhaled raggedly; was not envious; she was not.

"I think we have an audience, my love," said Draco in a manner that looked to Blaise that he was speaking to the door. Hermione froze at those words; he had seen her. It was impossible to move away then, for her steps would be heard and it would be obvious that she was stepping away from the door. She turned around just as Draco pushed the door open and looked at her with a most malicious leer.

She stared blankly at him.

"So, it's you," said Blaise spitefully at the sight of her. "Tell me, haven't you ever heard of privacy Granger," she added vehemently.

Draco's smirk did not leave his face as he looked at her hatefully. Hermione looked from him to Blaise.

"I shall not think so Blaise, for this is a common room. Not a private place at all," said Hermione stiffly as she stepped out of the room and pushed past Draco, and headed for the staircase hurriedly. She tried to avoid his piercing gaze, his weapons of judgment.

Blaise laughed haughtily as Hermione reached the foot. "Hearing that from you mudblood, I think not," she said. Draco turned to her with a smile.

"Hurry along darling, I think you've had your fun," drawled Draco in a voice that made Hermione want to scream with disgust. Blaise pouted once more but turned around and exited the den of their quarters. As Hermione climbed the staircase halfway, she heard Draco's arrogant brogue once more.

"Oh, is mudblood Granger jealous?" he said. Hermione stopped and turned back around to see him at the bottom stairway looking at her with an extremely arrogant smirk.

"Of you!" she exclaimed. Malfoy smirked at her tone, she sounded like a raving housewife.

"Hah!" she laughed bitterly as she pushed the door of her room open "I would never fall for you, even if you were the last piece of scum on earth!" she said with conviction. "You wish Malfoy… you wish,"

Draco continued up the stairs until he reached her. Hermione stood and looked up at him boldly with an intensely hateful glare directed right at him. "No, I don't. Your mudblood affections are the least I could wish for," he replied. Hermione turned away from him and opted to reach her room immediately when he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back forcing her to look at him. Though the pressure of his grip on her arm put her in great discomfort, she looked at him without a flinch and with an eye of utter hate.

"You vile wicked despicable little piece of rubbish, that's all you have against me, isn't it. Well I would never choose to be a pureblood if it meant sharing something in common with you!" she said hatefully. Malfoy's smirk widened at her audacity.

"Is that so?" he said.

"I hate you," she hissed as she struggled out of his firm grip on her arm.

Malfoy's smirk widened. "Believe me Granger, I've never felt so commonly with you,"

"Get away from me you bastard!" she screeched and pulled her arm from his grip.

"Fine!" he said back as he stepped backwards with a bitter look directed at her. "You're not worth anything, you sullied little mudblood!"

"Why should I listen to anything you say!" she screamed.

She entered her room and slammed her door as strongly as she could.

Hermione leaned against the back of her door holding her hand in a fist. She bit her lip intensely willing herself to hold back any tear that may be threatening to fall down her face. He is not worth my grief, she though determinedly to herself. Yet, as she thought those very words, she felt the strangest feelings of fear and uncertainty. Hermione slid down the door and sat herself on the floor. For some reason, she could not bid herself forget the moment she had caught in the den, she refused to think that it bothered her, ever in the slightest. But the determination in feeling that way was beginning to fade the more she thought about it. Strangely, as she thought about the sickening sight of Malfoy snogging Blaise, she did not feel the guilt of stealing their privacy, but rather the violation of something stolen from her. She remembered Parvati's words at the first dinner they had in the French Castle "Blaise is going out with Malfoy,". Hadn't she expected it? It was in a couple's nature to share intimate moments with one another even if they were Slytherins, after all Lavender and Ron had more public snogging sessions than anyone she knew, but why? Why did it bother her so much? It was not as if it mattered, did it? Blaise did deserve Malfoy, they were perfect for each other.

Hermione beat her fist on the wooden floor violently. No… it didn't matter, it wasn't supposed to matter. Nothing was supposed to matter between them. Nothing was supposed to exist. How could she even think, just for one moment that there would ever be? How could she ever justify his actions to her, and her friends? No, he was just as she had always though him be have been, an evil arrogant bastard. She tried so desperately to embed those very thoughts in her mind, forcing herself to forget the night out in the rain…

Hermione looked up at the intricate woodwork of the ceiling of her room, determinedly thinking that she would not let Malfoy ruin her day. Her wonderful Sunday afternoon shared in the company of her two best friends. Hermione groaned with intense exasperation. For it was too late, she knew that he already had.

At that very moment, she though with vindictive intensity that she had never hated anyone more fiercely for making her regret anything she thought shoddily about them.

Lucius turned to his wife seriously. "That, is your son's task," he hissed at her as she stepped suddenly away from him with her heavy white boots clapping against the stone floor of the large drawing room, the long train of her turquoise robe trailing being her. She turned back to her husband.

"If you want your sinister ploy to commence soon…" she cut off turning to Bellatrix who stood at the door with a placid look. "You shall seek the help of my sister," she finished in a determined tone.

Lucius stood up and regarded his wife with a solemnity that she had hardly ever seen on him before. "You wish to help your son out of the precarious situation he has found himself in. Narcissa, he will provide me with the information I need, or he will suffer," Narcissa turned around and faced her husband with dignity. Her blue eyes darkened in intensity. Lucius was beginning to recognize the potency in his wife that she had almost never displayed.

"A situation you have forced upon him," she said emphasizing ever word. Lucius approached her threateningly finding her impassive still at his hostile action. At times he would have preferred to see his wife broken, yet he knew that there were much more advantages to her being a woman of determined character; a perfect match for him. He could clearly see from where his son had acquired his intolerable stubbornness.

"It is his destiny," hissed Lucius. "It is only right,"

Narcissa observed the hard features of her husband and feared that she was beginning to arouse his anger. She had not meant to put Lucius in such a mood, but he had aroused hers first by observing her sister with much more attention that she deserved. She knew she was being shallow but her envy had prevailed over her. She could have accepted bearing witness to a flirtatious act between her husband and another woman with no relation to herself, but certainly not to her own sister. Narcissa Malfoy would never admit to feeling jealousy in the slightest sense, yet, it was a human weakness one could never really overcome, and she knew it.

"You've spoken about destiny… but though you wish Draco to fulfill it, you push him away from it by refusing him your confidence, as if you're afraid he cannot do the task. You act as if he is not your son," she said.

"He does not need my confidence, I have taught him just as much. Confidence is an emotional reason, a sign of weakness! I will not render my son pitiable by contributing to the fact that he is being as unhelpful as it is!" said Lucius.

"Then you will tell him, for once in your life that you are—"

"Never, I am not going to lower myself to the praise of my own son!" Lucius thundered vehemently as Narcissa argued with him. "Not until he deserves it,"

"No, not until he accepts the task of being the Dark Lord's—"

Lucius cut her off, "You will not speak of this here," he hissed.

"Stop it, the both of you," said Bellatrix from the door. Narcissa looked at her with a smile of satisfaction. She went on "I think a little help from Aunty Bella won't hurt Draco, Lucius. It is your son's stubbornness, which is your problem, the obstinacy of his will, which refuses submission to you. Do you not think it a fit asset for our lord's future accomplice? Seriously, it is not something to trouble yourself about Lucius, for his defiance better exists when he faces the destiny you want so desperately to befall him," Narcissa's smile widened, her sister had fallen right into her trap. Perhaps Lucius would realize the rapidity of events that would commence from then on. But hopefully, he would not perceive the austere manner in which she was cunningly trying to save her son but moreover in the same way helping her husband's cause. "I will merely obtain what you want of your son, something he might not willingly give you,"

"How do you know he will be cooperative, even to you?" asked Lucius.

Bellatrix smiled, "That will not be important," she said.

Lucius Malfoy looked from Bellatrix to his wife. It was one of those moments when one could really perceive of their blood ties, he felt slightly annoyed but momentarily he kept to himself. He would let Narcissa have her way on that occasion soliloquizing silently that it would be the only occasion that he would have it.

"Let's hope you are both right," he said as he took his pimp cane off its leverage and tucked it snugly under his cloak. "For your sakes," he finished as he disapparated from the room.

Narcissa stepped towards her sister and as she crossed her at the edge of the room, she looked at her. "Tell me Bella do you still keep that bird around?" she asked. Bellatrix raised her eyebrow at her sister as she silently contemplated where this conversation was going.

"Rodrom? Certainly," answered Bellatrix impassively.

"Put your animal to purpose sister, it might be of some help," said Narcissa as she walked out of the hall. Bellatrix raised an eyebrow as she mussed for a moment.

After a few moments, the black haired woman then looked up in urgency as if realizing something. "Not a bad idea at all, my dear sister…"

Much I marveled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,

Though it's answer little meaning— little relevancy bore;

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—

Bird or breast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,

Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore,"

Almost taking down the staircase with his heavy dash down it, Draco immediately swore after Hermione had slammed the door of her room to him. He curled his hands into firm fists with the greatest effort of forbearance, in hopes that his anger would be contained. It had always been in his nature to degrade Hermione Granger with her common dirty bloodline. It had been his to think of her as one of the lowest pieces of scum the wizarding world had… In the process of degrading her, he was supposed to enjoy seeing the humiliation, the anger and the insulted look on her face. After all he had always felt that way…

The fact that he had began to feel an undeniable twang of guilt every time he got into a row with her was infuriating to him; it was as if he was feeling degraded himself. It was like; he had grown less vehement and willful about his philosophy. Draco tightened his fist as he thought of it; there was a correction. It was his father's philosophy.

But even so, it was undeniable that no matter how much hate he had for his father, there was nothing that could make the distinguishing marks between the Malfoy father and son. But did it mean, that if Draco refused to accept a part of his father as a part of himself as well, that he would prove himself entirely different? Draco snorted, that would be impossible. What was a trait of his father was not a trait of him alone, Lucius teachings still held some value in his thinking no matter how he thought of his father.

Draco would never accept being degraded by someone lower than him as Hermione Granger was… He was still a pureblood, born in to the most prestigious wizarding families in England, and she, she was muggleborn. There was nothing more to be said.

He determined to set his mind to those exact thoughts… yet; somewhere along the line… there was that familiar pang of contradiction that spoke through his line of thought.

"So, how was yesterday Ron?" said Lavender cheerfully as she and Ron crossed the bright sunlit hallway. They were heading to the Grand Dinning hall for the morning breakfast. Ron stifled a yawn before answering.

"Fud… It was really fun," said Ron smiled as he recalled how the trio had spent their afternoon the day before, watching the sun set on the Avaloires mountain ranges, frolicking in the fallen leaves. His smile widened as he remembered how he had seen Harry actually happy again, of course it was because he saw Hermione happy as well.

Lavender grinned. "I'd expect there would be progress by now?" she said, extremely unsatisfied by his answer.

Ron looked uncertainly at her. "Progress? What's that supposed to mean?"

Lavender rolled her eyes. "With Harry of course, has he told her yet?" she persisted.

Ron shook his head. "You expect Harry to even make an effort? I don't think so, It'll be a long time till then," They turned the corner as Lavender frowned slightly.

"Yes, I guess you're right. I'll wager, that no matter how smitten Harry is, it'll take time," she nodded. "Do you think Hermione fells the same?"

Ron looked thoughtful for a moment before answering. "I'm not sure, but if ever Harry does tell her, I don't think she'll have any reason to refuse… do you?"

"No, not really. Harry's perfect for her, but I think, with Hermione's attitude, it'll take her a long time to realize that Harry's actually beginning to think of her as more than a friend," Lavender shook her head as if she was regretful that their anticipated romance won't be happening any sooner.

"Do you think it'll happen any sooner if we… you know, gave them a little help?" said Ron, a mischievous smile tugging on his lips. Lavender pondered on the idea for a moment but she knew better.

"No Ron," she said a little bit warningly. "If ever it's meant to happen, it will. In time…"

Hermione placed her palm to her head as she closed her eyes, trying to ward off the headache she had been suffering all evening. Harry, who was walking beside her, turned to her, his bright green eyes full of worry.

"Is everything all right Hermione?" he asked. Hermione turned to him and nodded, not wanting to rouse his concern any more than she already had.

"Yes, I'm just a little tired," she said softly. They were entering the Grand Dinning Hall for breakfast, which was filled as always with lively conversations, warming laughter. Harry put his hand on Hermione's shoulder making her turn to him. They stopped at the wide door attracting the curiosity of several students who were whispering as they passed the Gryffindor pair.

"Are you quite sure Hermione?" persisted Harry, ignoring the fuss around them. Hermione nodded with a smile.

"It's nothing really, I drank a little headache drought just now. I think it just needs a little time to wear," she said as she continued on the long table where all the Gryffindors sat. Harry followed behind her. At the middle of the table were Ron and Lavender waving at them with wide smiles.

"I think we're in for the morning gossip," said Harry. Hermione laughed softly as they took their seats. Immediately, Parvati and Lavender lunged into a boisterous talk about how Mandy Broklehurst broke up with Terry Boot for Orla Querkie.

"I mean, long blonde hair and all for that," exclaimed Lavender eying Orla with a pondering eye. The shy-looking brown haired girl looked curiously lonely at the edge of the table where the Ravenclaws sat. Hermione felt a sudden pity for the simple girl; perhaps it was only further proof that beauty was only skin deep. But Hermione hated to argue with Lavender and Parvati they made their points quite clearly when they spoke.

"I can't understand him," she continued.

"You should, you know. You used to date him," said Parvati who immediately put her had to her mouth realizing she had said the wrong thing. She looked at Lavender who looked a bit grave but made an effort so smile. Ron beside her cleared his throat slightly as he stopped eating.

"Not successfully though," she told Parvati, emphasizing every word, making sure Ron heard. "Anyway, Hermione, how's your project doing?"

Hermione smiled, observing her slick switch of topic. But then her amusement diminished as she remembered Lavender's question about their project. Honestly, their project was fine; for now, yet, it was her recent disagreement with Malfoy that worried her. She knew of course that they wouldn't be doing half as fast if he hadn't done most of the charting.

"Fine," she said plainly. "Though I'm not sure if we're going to finish in time,"

Lavender nodded pushing herself to be interested. "How far have you gone?"

Hermione thought for a moment. "Eighteen scrolls," she said finally. Almost all the people around her looked at her with a shocked expression.

"Blimey, Eighteen scrolls?" exclaimed Ron. Hermione nodded.

"I know, it's a little on the needy side. But I'm sure we're going to get much more work done in a few days," said Hermione.

Parvati took a sip of cherry juice before countering Hermione's statement. "Needy, I do hope Hermione that you're aware that the minimum is twenty scrolls and not, twenty thousand,"

Hermione nodded. "Of course I am… but as you've said, it is the minimum," Lavender started to laugh.

"Hermione, I will never understand you," she said, chorusing the entire group to laugh along with her. Hermione could not suppress a smile.

"Oh dear, look what the cat brought in…" exclaimed Blaise as she steered Draco's attention to the door of the Grand Dinning Hall that morning. Draco looked up and raised his eyebrow rather grudgingly at the sight of Harry Potter and Hermione Granger speaking to each other at the door. As he could see, they were attracting more attention that they expected, drawing in the stares of most students that were passing by. Draco suddenly felt a presumptuous urge to slit Harry's throat. The entire group, Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson, Baddock, Nott and Zabini looked up at the view Blaise was pointing out.

"Oh, look, scar-head's got a girlfriend," said Goyle beside him as he took a bite out of the cherry-raisin soufflé on his plate, apparently not having the etiquette to use any utensils. Crabbe beside him laughed, or rather grunted along with him.

"And I haven't the heart to say he's got a drop of taste," said Malcolm Baddock across from Malfoy. Draco forced a smirk as he observed Potter and Granger. He was rather forcing down the impulse to scream with fury at that moment.

"That's what he deserves of course, nothing but a filthy little mudblood to his tastes," sneered Draco growing more annoyed by the second. Blaise thought she heard a harsh hint of something else in Draco's tone but dismissed it quickly as her imagination. She laughed lightly, for a moment there she had thought of it as envy.

"It seems as the Gryffindor couple of the year have finally decided to date out in the open, how positively… disgusting," screeched Pansy in the most languid manner as she forked her langoustine lobster splayed on her plate. The Slytherin bunch stifled giggles at Pansy's comment.

"Look on the bright side," started Theodore Nott, "If Granger really does marry Potter, at the least she won't be spending her life dirt poor like if she would marry Weasley… but I don't think being dirt poor would be so bad… if being dead with Potter is an option,"

Blaise sneered as well as the bunch of them eyed Potter and Granger walking towards the Gryffindor table. "I wonder where will they be spending their honeymoon," she drawled in a sharp yet playful tone, resting her smooth chin on her palm. Draco turned away from the view of the Gryffindor pair deciding he grew sick just by watching them. Draco leered vilely.

"Probably in their graves when I get through with them," he said. Blaise raised her eyebrow at his statement.

"What was that darling?" Perhaps she hadn't heard him right, no, she had definitely heard him.

"I mean of course, when he gets through with them," Draco replied calmly.

The Slytherin group chorused with contained laughter at Draco's statement, knowing of course what Potter would soon befall. It would not be long, and for once, as he turned his hateful glare at the Gryffindors, Harry laughing with Hermione and Weasley, he thought that there was never any moment that he had wanted to see Harry Potter suffer more than then.

There was a room in the Malfoy Manor that appealed most to Bellatrix Lestrange. A room so delicately panelled with dark birch panes, smoothened to perfection, and crafted with marvellous intricate designs of gold and silver, even more magnificent than the crafting of Buckingham. This room, always draped with fine black silk curtains fringed with Silver embroidery, always classically furnished with façonnier quality fixtures, always quiet, solemn… and dark, just like she liked it. It was a room that Narcissa kept for occasions when Bellatrix would come and visit, a room that Lucius made sure that was maintained, even when Bellatrix halted her visits to the manor. The room where she now dwelled, for the time being, sitting languidly in her four-poster bed, draped with black silken veils as if waiting for something.

As her restlessness grew, she decided that she needed a little air. She stood up from the bed and pushed the curtains away. She walked over to a long black curtain which hung from the ceiling to the stone floor and restively pulled open the plush chord of the curtains, which covered the archway to the wide stone balcony. She stepped outside into the crisp air of midnight in a cat-like manner, securing the silence of her chambers. Looking up at the dark cloudy night sky, she realized slowly that then, she felt all the more unregimented than she had been in the entire four months that she had been free from Azkaban. But she had to admit that her freedom was not at its peak. How could it, when she only could reveal herself on a listless dim and foggy night. To leave the manor only to return to the dim hideaway she and her master had shared for the longest time. She was unable to restrain her need for freedom any longer, and the Dark Lord reminded her of another place she could be safe. The Dark Lord had been right, as he had always been to her from the first moment she had served him. Suddenly, those same words returned to her, "A haven… from where your own blood dwells, where you will find yourself… boundless for this time," It was a passage from a book she had read to herself.

She looked down on her left forearm and raised it to the weak light of the candle burning in the chamber behind her and saw it, it was there, as it always was… The symbol of her devotion to the cause of the dark, the symbol of her principles, her belief… The Dark Mark. She had always resented having been branded in the beginning, especially with a hideous mark such as this mark, which tarnished the beauty of her white skin. But she was then a child, naïve and insecure. She did not know the significance the dark mark held then, now she was a woman, now, she knew what it meant. It meant so many things, loyalty, belief, betrayal, limitless meanings.

Bellatrix had been many things as a child, a dark beauty at the age of eleven, never knowing repulsiveness in her life. She was a Black after all; all Black women held the same dark ominous beauty the pureblooded family had a contingent gene that certainly contributed to their legacy. Even Andromeda, Bellatrix had to admit had that same beauty; something she most foolishly wasted by severing her blood ties to them. And of course, Narcissa, who had made the most fortunate marriage of the three, though set apart by her angel features had proven utmost loyalty to their family. Growing up, she had learned that the truth was not always associated with good, and that evil was not always a road to failure, that people who reaped failure from evil were fools. These were things she learned from experience and of course, from the man she worshiped, the Dark Lord. Closing her heavy-lidded eyes, she recalled a night seventeen years before when the dark lord had asked her what loneliness meant for her. She replied that 'loneliness is the tormentor of the soul, or rather the tormentor of the weak soul. One who is strong does not allow loneliness to plague him, even though he is really alone,' She remembered how the Dark Lord had been pleased at her answer, he replied with a Latin phrase that put her at ease. Vere Dictas... Which meant, Well said.

Yes, Bellatrix was increasingly proud of her legacy even of what her life had turned out to be. Even though the haunting memories of what had befallen her for the past fifteen years seemed a bother each night she went to bed, it couldn't quite blandish the pride she had in being a most loyal minion of what was to be, in her opinion and of many others; the greatest sorcerer of all time.

But for a fleeting moment, she wondered how could she deem herself so loyal when her loyalty to her own sister faltered? For a moment it seemed as if she was beginning to doubt herself, but then, she thought, it was not she to be doubtful. The thought reminded her of her task, she had after all promised Narcissa that she would definitely do her this favor, not that she had a choice. She would do it, in further proof of her loyalty.

She reached out to the dark heavens and extended her hand as if sealing the purpose for the night. In the distance, a sharp crow was heard, and then followed the heavy flapping of wings. A large black bird had appeared on the horizon and was heading towards the manor at top speed. It closed in within seconds and circled around the area a few times. With one last crow, it descended onto the stone balcony of the middle spire, finally perching itself onto her delicate outstretched fingers.

Bellatrix lowered her arm with the black raven perched on it. "Dear dear sister, what will you think of next…" she soliloquized.

Tossing over a number of scrolls, which were lined with various charts and tables, Draco leaned back on the black leather couch stretching his arms with a mild yawn. He glanced down at the charts and grimaced, noticing that he had not written down much difference from the last time he had handled his work. He was distracted; he knew he was. But he refused to think that his distraction had come from the specific scene he had seen that very morning at breakfast. He had not scene his group all day, nor did he want to. His lingering annoyance of Granger was still there, and it had grown even rasher when he had caught sight of her that morning… with Potter. They were displaying themselves so openly that he had the sudden urge to beat Potter's face in at that very moment. But he couldn't, because by doing so he would be admitting something that was unacceptable. It was that he was what he had accused Granger to be during their last argument. That he was jealous.

Draco curled his hands into fists at the very thought. He did not know if he was mad at himself of at Granger. At himself for even thinking those thoughts, and at Granger… she had to blame her for something. Maybe for being appealing in a way that only he could understand. Draco swore, Granger was not appealing… not to him of all people. Not to him.

There was a sound of the circular staircase ascending and at it, Draco straightened out immediately and bent over the table turning back to the charts and grabbing a quill. As the sound of the staircase came to a halt, Draco perceived slow footsteps stepping out of the encasement then drawing to a halt. A few moments passed and there was not a sound of anyone coming into the room. He suddenly realized who had come into the den of their room. He looked up slowly with a cold and passive face, not surprised at all to find Hermione standing at the top of the stairs looking curiously at him holding a few books in her hand.

"Speak of the devil," he said making sure that his words were audible. Hermione, who reacted to his cold voice, seemed to take the phrase as a wake-up call to reality. She quickly moved into the room eying his work, which was laid out on the glass table in the middle of the room.

"Talking to yourself Malfoy," she snapped as she continued walking into the room trying to keep her curiosity of his work at bay. Draco looked up at her raising his eyebrows. He tossed his quill back on the table, knowing there was no reason to pretend he was accomplishing something while in her presence.

"You should talk mudblood," he said bitterly. Hermione's head snapped up at his words, apparently her hate for the term 'mudblood' had not diminished one bit. She glared at him fiercely, she was standing in front of him, and he seemed to take great pleasure in the sight of her, intensely annoyed by the sight of him sitting so languidly before her.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked in the same biting tone she had started to address him with.

Draco smirked mockingly. "May I ask Granger, how was your day? It seems you fancy attention just as Potter does. Quite obviously as you stirred up the crowd this morning." He snapped in the most acid tone she had heard him speak in. She realized that he must have been talking about how she walked into the Dinning Hall at breakfast with Harry, when most of the student population seemed to observed Harry's friendly gesture as something more that it would have meant. "Tell me Granger, how does it feel being renowned as the girlfriend of famous Harry Potter? Though I'm surprised scar-head finally found someone… And just when I thought he could sink no lower, here he comes and picks you. I guess I was wrong,"

Hermione flushed slightly at his words. He thought as shallowly as the rest of them in her opinion, for there was nothing going on with Harry and her. They were of course merely best friends.

"You're talking nonsense Malfoy," she said as she turned her heel and headed towards the staircase so that he could not chase her. "Perhaps your fickle little mind takes all things maliciously…"

"Am I," he said as he stood up, his next words were enough to make her stop. "Prove me wrong, you've been seen by the entire hall,"

Hermione took a deep breath before she turned back to meet his hateful gaze. "I beg to differ. Why is it so hard for people of your sort to keep to your own business? When people like Harry drag in attention when you know, he never meant to…"

Draco rolled his eyes at her defensive words. "And I suppose you don't mean to drag in attention just like him," he spat sarcastically. Hermione's eyes grew darker, his mouth twitched slightly at the observance of it.

"Why are my issues, such of your concern?" she asked strongly. Draco stopped for a moment and thought, these were the same words he had asked himself so many times, but was never answered. He sought to regain his senses not to arouse her curiosity but then, he realized it was too late. She was looking at him in a manner that betrayed her, with a hint of wonder and amusement, and at the same time… fear.

"Perhaps I'm merely sick of you, flaunting around with Potter and Weasel thinking that you're always right," he said. Hermione's eyes lit up with mild surprise. It had been the first time that she had perceived a note of the reason behind his hatred for Harry and her.

"Harry never insisted he was ever right about everything," she answered. She looked up at Draco who had turned away from her. "That's not the reason Malfoy, you know it's not," she added softly holding the books closer to her chest, she had a feeling that she was starting to tread on dangerous grounds, but there was no turning back now.

"What do you know?" he said vehemently turning on her.

"You're tired, of being compared to Harry so much that you' can't do anything but find anything to use against him. Correct me if I'm wrong," she said. Draco had never looked so speechless in his life. He had a sinking feeling that she had narrowed it all down in that single sentence, though he refused to admit it. "You don't know anything about Harry, Malfoy, nor me and Ron. But you're jealous of him, as you've always been,"

Draco laughed hoarsely and then returned her stubborn look. "Jealous, I'm jealous… of Harry Potter and his mudblood girlfriend… no… never," he said grudgingly. Hermione turned away from him and took the first step up the staircase. She stopped once more as he spoke once more.

"You think so very well that you can read me that easily do you Granger?" he sneered in an acrid timbre. He had clutched his hands into fists. "You're wrong, you're not as clever as you think you are,"

Hermione continued up the staircase until she reached her room and closed the door silently behind her. Draco stood there for a moment, seemingly concentrating on the spot where she had been standing on just moments before. His gaze had pictured her permanently standing there for a moment, criticizing him as though she knew. She did know, but she did not know how right she was.

Draco stood there for a few moments more, feeling as if something of his very being had been stolen from him.

Walking down the corridor leading to the library, Harry and Ron tried to ignore the loud boisterous paintings on the walls that were commenting on every one who passed in incomprehensible French.

"I don't know why they don't keep those curtains closed," said Ron as they crossed the middle of the long carpeted hallway, caved by several intricate archways and stone carved posts all though the hallway. "Those Frenchmen are horrendous,"

Harry smiled. He looked at one of the portraits of a bearded man who was looking suspiciously around him muttering "Arrêtez, arrêtez" over and over again. He had wide black and beady eyes that looked as if they were about to pop out of their sockets. Harry turned away from the paranoid portrait. "Extremely horrendous," said Harry. Ron laughed.

They were headed towards the library where Hermione said she would be at breakfast; Ron and Harry promised that they would come by her some time after they were done with their day study. "Do you think Hermione's done already?" asked Harry in a mild tone. Ron could not suppress a smile.

"Stick Hermione in a library and you'll have a harder time getting her out than forcing a bludger away from Quidditch players, with out a bat" commented Ron. They both laughed. As Hermione's best friends, Ron and Harry had gotten used to Hermione's wild study habits over the years, though at times she never failed to shock them with the occasional extremities that came with her studiousness.

As the pair reached the large arched doors of the Brentenoux library, a group of the castle staff exited with numerous wooden boxes in hand. Ron and Harry had to step aside to let the casually robed witches and wizards to pass. A finely platinum blonde haired witch turned back to Ron and Harry and smiled as she nodded, apparently thanking them for letting them pass. Ron's attention lingered on the delicate figure of the girl passing out of the hallway before snapping himself out of his momentous reverie and following Harry into the large library. They observed that the front desk was clear as they entered, Ron was silently thankful that he wouldn't have the ill pleasure of being eyed by the librarian's stern stare once again. The subtle sound of many footsteps rushing over the heavy carpeted floors of the library was still heard. The room was rather filled compared to the last time Harry and Ron had been in the Brentenoux library when Fleur had delivered Lupin's letter to Harry.

Harry and Ron headed towards the edge of the room where the long study tables were situated and spotted Hermione almost automatically who was in the process of packing all the books in her tote bag.

"Leaving so soon, It's not like you," said Harry sarcastically as Hermione saw them. She raised an eyebrow as she smiled. She had been there for the past hour and had merely scanned a few French and Latin books on Magical history in Europe. The Brentenoux library was indeed vast yet, the majority of the books were in French and Hermione did not really admire French literature that much.

"I'm rather short on decent reading material," she said. Ron laughed quietly.

"You're always short on decent reading material. It's either you've read the entire library or you already know the entire contents of every book by heart," Hermione fought down a smile as she tried to focus glaring at Ron.

Ron's smile grew wider. "Am I wrong?"

Hermione punched him playfully on the shoulder after she fastened the strap of her bag to hang on her shoulder. Harry smiled as well.

"Unfortunately," replied Hermione allowing herself to smile. "I bet you're dying to get to the dinning hall," the two boys nodded. She sighed at the same time walking forward and leading them out of the library.

"So, how has your study been getting along?" asked Hermione. Ron put on a mildly disappointed face at Hermione's sudden question, and Harry smiled slightly.

"Ron ended up almost getting horned by the Urisk, in a most inappropriate spot…" said Harry. Ron flushed a bright red. Hermione turned to him and laughed at the sight of his guilty face.

"How did you manage that?" Hermione giggled as she imagined the sight of Ron being chased by a horned Urisk standing almost half as tall as him. Ron snorted, his expression growing smugger as if he was recalling the very instance a few hours ago.

"We were done really, I just remembered that I left a few notes by the bush where we were in observance before, I just snuck back to get them back," started Ron. "Unfortunately it saw me, and chased me across the clearing,"

Harry grinned mischievously. "Love notes from Lavender, really, very important," coughed Harry nudging Ron. Hermione laughed even louder at Harry's comment.

"And a gold wizard card of Herpo the Foul, they're very hard to come by you know!" added Ron defensively blushing even more. Harry and Hermione laughed at Ron's statement.

"You risked you arse for notes from your girlfriend and a man who not only killed about a dozen Greek Wizards but also created the most foul serpent in the history of the wizarding world. You did know Herpo the Foul created the basilisk didn't you?" said Hermione humorously.

"They were inserted in my Fantastic Beasts book," he replied defensively, no longer able to suppress the grin forming on his lips as he heard Hermione's crude statement.

"So, how did you get it to stop chasing you?"

"Padma knew a time shifting charm, which froze it," replied Harry.

"I'm sure it didn't get hurt, if in any case Fleur announced last Friday in the breakfast hall that it was quite alright to defend yourself against the specimens if it was a real emergency," added Ron. Hermione nodded, that simple fact was a great relief to her as she was reminded of the severe attacks Malfoy had inflicted on the Sirens last weekend.

"Hermione, your group's not having any trouble with your creatures are you?" asked Ron curiously. Hermione did not know if she were ample to smile or frown at Ron's inquiry. She chose to smile and turn to him.

"You have no idea—"

Just as the trio turned the next corner out of the long hall, they stopped at the sight of whom they ran into. Apparently stopping as well at the sight of the trio Draco Malfoy put on a disgusted look. Blaise Zabini was hanging on his arm wearing a vehement look as well; Malcolm Badock and Pansy Parkinson were at their sides with Crabbe and Goyle at the rear. The trio did not look at all pleased to see the Slytherin group as well. Hermione's insides sunk, she had a nagging feeling that things could only get worse.

Draco smirked vilely as he eyed Harry with distaste. Harry looked equally disgruntled at the sight of Malfoy standing in front of him. "Well well, if it isn't Saint Potter and his two distasteful followers," drawled Malfoy. He eyed Harry's messy hair almost immediately. "Thinking of actually running a comb through that repulsive mop of yours Potter? I do say it needs it,"

Harry grew a bit paler at Malfoy's rueful comment but chose to brush it off. "It's too bat I can't say the same for you Malfoy," retorted Harry speaking evenly. "It seems as if your hair sports too much cement on it that it's taking effect on your head. Though I would bother taking it off if I were you It's probably what's keeping your head from appearing ten times as small as it really is," Ron snorted gleefully at Harry's comment.

Malfoy looked as if he had been slapped for a moment but then regained his slick composure. "My my, Potter, learning the art of insulting?" sneered Draco.

"Too bad it doesn't suit your renowned noble, courageous, humble personality," added Blaise in the most sarcastic tone. Ron glared at her savagely with a furious blush almost matching the dark auburn of Blaise's long straight tresses.

"Nobody asked you," he said vehemently at her. Blaise laughed in a shrill high-pitched tone.

"You dare raise your voice at a lady," said Malcolm eying Ron with amusement. Draco turned to him and smirked.

"Its in his nature Baddock, Weasley can't get the upper hand in a fight unless he insults a girl, makes him feel… woo so confident," said Malfoy. Ron almost lunged at Malfoy if it were not for Harry and Hermione keeping a firm hold on his robes.

Pansy laughed at the sight of Ron being restrained by Potter and Granger, she turned to Draco "It's rather unnerving isn't it, scenes like this when Weasley can't get even close. Just because Scar-head and Mudblood are afraid to get in trouble," she commented. Draco nodded at her words not taking his steely grey gaze off Potter's darkening glare.

"Bite your tongue Parkinson," said Hermione speaking for the first time. She had been edgy all the time since they had stopped in the hallway. She couldn't believe Malfoy was starting a fight again, considering that he had the higher authority along with her. They were specifically assigned by Mc Gonnagal to restrain situations like this and not to be the root of them. They were expected to be beyond this childish behaviour. Hermione was inwardly scolding herself as well, what was she doing anyway, standing there, not even saying a word of caution of the trouble their brawl would cause? She felt Harry loosen his grip on Ron's robe as Pansy laughed again. She turned to Harry as if to ask what was he doing, but then saw that he was too busy exchanging death-glares with Malfoy. The hall was starting to crowd with their curious classmates, Seamus Dean and Neville were inching their way behind the trio now. Some Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were looking on as well.

"Why should I, mudblood?" she answered. "I do hope you plan to cut out that hedge off your head, you do look horrendous did you know that?" Hermione found herself completely letting go of Ron's cloak.

"Saint Potter, don't you have anything to say. Or do you feel… oh you know… a bit faint?" snapped Malfoy rudely. Harry swore loudly at Malfoy and for a moment Draco looked impressed at the insult.

"Dear me, Potter, such language. Didn't your mother teach you any manners?" he said sarcastically. "Oh, that's right she didn't… how could she, she's dead," he exclaimed vehemently. The Slytherin group choused with laughter but not long enough to enjoy it. It was apparently the last straw for Harry who lunged at Malfoy. Ron moved behind him in an effort to pull him off Draco but was met instead by Malcolm who pounced at Ron throwing a heavy punch at his jaw with his right fist.

"Oh no you don't Weasel," snarled Malcolm bringing Ron down on the ground. Pansy began screaming at the scene of Malfoy and Harry lashing out punches in front of her. As Crabbe and Goyle moved in to pry Potter off Malfoy, Blaise held out her arm at the two oafish boys and glared at them. "Leave him, he's trying to prove a point," she said Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other in confusion and moved back as Blaise directed them.

Draco lashed out blindly at Potter who was holding him to the floor by squeezing his neck tightly so he could barely breathe. Finally his clenched fist collided with Harry's cheek and he loosened his grip on Malfoy's neck giving him a bit of advantage. Harry groaned at the pain caused by Malfoy's punch to his face. Malfoy pushed Potter off him knocking him to the floor heavily. Draco retaliated by throwing a heavy punch at Harry's abdomen almost knocking the wind out of him. Harry threw a punch but only managed to hit Draco's left arm as he tried to block Harry's fist from colliding with his body. That apparently had been enough as Draco's face contorted in pain. Harry's punch would not have hurt half as bad if it had not hit his cut from the Siren encounter. Draco felt the bandage under his black sleeve beginning to come undone and the blood beginning to flow down his arm and dripping down on the stone floor. Harry spotted the blood and wondered if he had really hit Draco that hard.

Draco looked at his bloodstained hand and then looked up at Harry. "You'll pay for that Potter," he exclaimed and lurched at Harry again.

"Harry!" exclaimed Hermione as she caught sight of him getting knocked to the ground by Malfoy who resumed getting back at Harry as soon as he sat up. Ron was on the floor still pinned by Malcolm at her feet. "Ron!" Hermione fumbled in her robes for her wand and as she drew it out, she immediately directed it at Malcolm. "Expeliarmus!"

In a mere second, she sent Malcolm flying into the wall of the hallway. Ron looked up at Hermione as he supported himself up. "Thanks," he said briskly before turning to Harry and Draco who were still engaged in a fierce fight on the stone floor of the hallway. "Harry…" said Hermione. She directly began to raise her wand and aim it at Malfoy who was squeezing Harry's neck as Harry was gripping his. The voices in the hallway were growing stronger as all came to see what was going on.

"Don't you dare mudblood!" said a voice from across her. Blaise already had her wand raised and was directing it to Hermione glaring at her with vehemence. "I restrained them," she indicated at Crabbe and Goyle who were surveying the scene with increasingly dumbfounded faces. "Keep your noses out of this,"

Hermione returned Blaise's stern glare though she realized that the redheaded girl was right, if she hit Malfoy with a curse, she was almost sure that she would be hit by something fiercer. But Harry… Suddenly, the crowd parted as a group of the castle's staff came to the scene with Fleur at the head.

"Arrêtez, arrêtez ceci immédiatement!" she exclaimed in a heavy tone at the sight of Draco and Harry fighting on the floor, Ron leaning against the wall with his hand on his cut cheek, which had scrapped against the stone floor earlier when Malcolm sprung at him and Malcolm on the foot of the wall seemingly unconscious. "Stop this, stop this at once!" Fleur directed her long wand at the two boys who were in the process of tearing each other to shreds casting a quick spell that sent Malfoy and Harry instantly springing apart. Fleur had a look of questioning disenchantment on her pretty face as she looked down at the both of them. Draco and Harry stood up as Fleur regarded them with a snobbish look. "What is ze meaning of zis?" she turned to Harry for an explanation. Harry turned immediately to Malfoy and glared at him.

"He started it!" said Harry. Draco looked back at Harry looking offended.

"He hit me first!"

"He insulted my mother!" Harry almost started towards Draco to hit him again but was stopped by Hermione who had rushed to his side. "Don't," said Hermione holding his arm back. Draco caught sight of the gesture and did not think twice about speaking once more. He was curiously overcome with an urge to pull Hermione away from Potter.

"Take a hint from your girlfriend Potter!" sneered Draco as he clutched his arm, which was stinging painfully.

"Enough! Zis is abominable!" said Fleur, she looked disappointedly at Draco but then observed his bloodied hands. Harry as if realizing brought his hand over to his neck, which was also tainted with Draco's sticky blood from him strangling him earlier. "What iz zat?' asked Fleur motioning to Draco's injury, he tone indicating a disturbed feeling at the sight of blood.

Hermione observed the sight as well, the sight of Draco 's sleeves and hands stained with a large amount of red blood. She thought that such an injury could not have been inflicted by Harry's blows. He had not even used a wand, neither of them had. An incisement hex, Hermione thought. But no, Harry was not that brutal. Then, it came to her; it was the cut that was inflicted by the Siren in the last week. Curiously, it had not yet healed.

Draco tried to hide his hand beneath his sleeve but Fleur had already seen it, and Blaise was at his side with a horrified look in her eyes at the sight of that amount of blood on Draco.

"Nothing…" he said in a muffled and uncontrollably pained voice as he looked outside the window gritting his teeth.

"Draco!" she exclaimed handling his blood stained arm with utmost horror, then she turned on Harry who was standing across from them "You!" she hissed hatefully. "You did this to him," Harry looked startled at Blaise, and then at Malfoy's injury.

Draco knew that it was indeed Harry's fault that the bandage had broken, but he had not inflicted the wound. For a moment, he thought of what trouble Harry would be in if they had thought that he really was the one who did it, after all he thought that he had done the damage himself. But then he looked at Hermione who was behind Harry looking indignantly at him as if urging him to tell the truth. He remembered that Hermione had seen the wound; she had been the only one who had seen it.

"Harry didn't to anything, and you know it! Tell them, tell them the truth Malfoy," she said. Harry looked at her confusedly. Draco looked at Hermione and regarded her with the casual indifference he would allow himself to display in that situation. Her eyes were wide with protest at Blaise' accusation and she looked at him almost expecting him to look at her in the same way… when he had first looked at her when they were on the train. Hermione immediately looked down as she realized that she was thinking unreasonably.

Draco observed her with all the casualness he could have managed in the situation when he was in immense pain, as that situation obviously displayed. He would have enjoyed Potter being punished for something that was barely his fault, the scene his father would surely make when he would find out. But as he looked Hermione in the eye, he saw something that only she could have had displayed so eloquently. Draco cursed himself inwardly; he couldn't believe what he was about to do, just because of her foolish taste for the truth. He tried to convince himself that it was the fact that she would protest to Mc Gonnagal when she returned the day after or to Fleur who was aware of the Siren attack if he did not tell them, her story would eventually turn out to be plausible anyway. He closed his eyes for a moment, deciding that he was tired of arguing with himself. Draco sighed wryly and then clutched his arm, which was becoming unnervingly painful by the second. "He… he didn't do it," Draco admitted, he spat out the confession as if it hurt him to say it. Harry looked shocked at Malfoy just as Blaise did.

"What are you talking about?" Blaise asked him, but did not get to hear the answer as Fleur called in some of the staff.

Fleur turned around and called a few of the staff witches and wizards to tend to Malfoy, Malcolm, Harry and Ron. "Françoise, apportent M. Malfoy, M. Baddock M. Potter en M. Weasley jusqu'à l'infirmerie" The witch who stepped forward was as Ron remembered, the witch who was back at the library, the one who had smiled at him and Harry for letting them pass. He blushed slightly at the sight of her.

Draco was about to object but then saw no way of getting out of it. He looked grudgingly at the sill of the window and was surprised to spot a large black raven perched outside on it. It's bright yellow eyes looked at him through the glass.

As he was staring back at the bird, the blonde witch called Francoise touched his shoulder and called him to follow them to the castle's infirmary. She spoke a rough English but then Draco stopped her telling her that he could speak French. He turned back to the windowsill where he had seen the raven to see that it was gone.

Pansy and Blaise followed behind the witches and wizards assisting the four injured boys and leading them out of the hall. Harry and Hermione followed after Ron who was being carried away in a floating chair after realizing that he had twisted his ankle.

The trio made sure that they were as far away from the Slytherins as possible while they walked through the long hallway.

Draco sighed heavily as he allowed himself to be carried away to the infirmary in something Fleur conjured up that resembled a French sedan chair. Malcolm was being levitated in a stretcher beside him. He closed his eyes as he frowned; he was feeling extremely ridiculous at that moment. Then he remembered the raven he had seen outside the window a few moments before. Draco could have sworn he had seen the creature before.

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

Nothing further then he uttered— not a feather then he fluttered—

Till I scarcely more than muttered, — "Other friends have flown before—

On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."

Then the bird said, "Nevermore"

A dark hooded figure loomed among the high towers of the French mansion, surveying the afternoon skies with peculiar attentiveness. In the far distance it noticed the black creature flying towards the mansion. The figure looked up and seemed pleased as if something he had long been waiting for had finally come.

The black raven set its claws on the broad outstretched arm of the figure and crowed loudly. It lowered its black beak in level with the face of the hooded figure as if to whisper something. The man stopped and thought, whether he was pleased or not; it was impossible to tell. Then the hooded man turned towards the hallway, the long dark silent hallway of the French castle. He lowered his arm where the large bird was perched and stroked its black feathery plume as it crowed softly. The silver hand set on the raven's plume contrasted rather intensely in the light.

The man nodded. "Yes… indeed Rodrom, your mistress will be pleased…"

Bellatix Lestrange opened her dark colored eyes at the light of the morning, the light seeping through the heavy black curtains and light silky veils draped around the four-poster bed. She lifted her heavy eyelids and focused it on the bright silver stars hanging from the top of the canopy of her bed as if reminding her of a clear night she could never really truly see. She turned to her side and took a moment to admire the silky white strands of hair that mixed and tangled with her own ebony tresses on the satin pillow.

The black haired woman smirked as if in remembrance of the night before. She playfully wrapped a few strands of silver hair around her fingers and put them to her lips, smelling a musky fragrance trademarked only to the man who lay beside her. She tugged more forcefully a few times before he stirred.

"It's dawn Lucius," she said as he gripped her wrist tightly indicating her to let his hair free from her fingers. Bellatrix let his hair drop immediately at the rough gesture.

Lucius Malfoy opened his silver eyes as she turned over in the bed to the sight that she had seen earlier, the silver stars she loved so much, glistening in the faint morning first light. He lazily turned his head to the side to see her staring at the mobile hanging from the top of the canopy. "Your wife will be wondering," she said tonelessly.

Lucius looked away from her and directed his gaze on the canopy as well, not really seeing any significance to it, wondering why she loved stars so much. At the same time pitying her because she could not reveal herself on a clear night anymore as long as she was being sought out by the ministry.

"Narcissa would rather kill herself than seek me out for the night. She does not wish to see me now, though she knows…" Lucius closed his eyes as he though of his wife, he wondered what the sight of him and her sister in one bed would stir in her. "I will go to her when I want to, just as I do with you," Lucius regretted it right after he said it as Bellatrix sat up immediately and gathered the sheets to cover her body. Lucius sat up from the bed as well as she swung her legs off the large four-poster bed and stood up. He was about to speak words of apology but then he knew that she would only retort by mocking him for ever expressing regret so openly even to him.

Bellatrix stepped into her stiff satin slippers as she left the bed dressed only in a dark colored sheet. She smiled to herself before facing Lucius again who had opened the curtains of the bed with his wand. He turned to her with a crude expression.

"Then I am no better off than her," she laughed more to herself than to him, "But of course, it is not as if I should be… Being your wife holds only so many pleasures, does it Lucius?" Lucius tried to ignore the sourness in her voice as he pulled on his shirt, which hung, on the side of his bed. He gathered up the long robes and capes, silver clasps and belts, which Bellatrix had, frustratingly all pulled off by herself the night before. He slipped on all the heavy layers of his attire causally.

"She is content," he told her as he fastened the black leather belt around his thin waist. Somehow Bellatrix had a hard time believing it.

"No Black woman is ever content," she muttered softly. Bellatrix moved over to the curtains that covered the windows of the room, curiously looking through the dim outside. Her hand tightened as she gripped the sheet on her chest. She felt furious that she could not linger outside even for a moment if the weather was well. It was infuriating having to wait for an extremely foggy day if she wanted to get out. She would leave the manor only to apparate to the dwellings of the Dark Lord, which was equally dreary as her room in the manor.

She turned around to see Lucius buckling the snake curved buckles on the top of his long black robe. "You've been wearing black since the first day I met you…" she said absentmindedly. He looked up at her and there flickered in his eye a faint surprise, which even she was startled to see.

"I don't think anything suits me better," he replied. Nothing else seemed appropriate to say.

Bellatrix laughed shrilly. "I don't know about that, last night didn't require a dress if you don't remember… you looked as dashing, possibly even more…" she sneered. Malfoy's lips twitched at her recollection. "Yet, I think… nothing suits a Deatheater better…" she agreed eventually.

Suddenly a loud crow came from the outside of the large room. The two looked immediately to the curtained window. Lucius rushed to open the curtains slightly as Bellatrix stayed out of sight. As he pulled the ripcord open, the black raven jumped onto the wide windowsill, the curtains closed behind the bird and Bellatrix approached it.

She noticed that her pet had a roll of parchment tied to its claws. She immediately untied the note and ran her eyes over the words written with a sloppy hand. Lucius looked at her expression curiously as it began to light up intriguingly.

Bellatrix looked up at his coldly set features. "It's from the Dark Lords French Frauline," she said with a sneer. Lucius raised an eyebrow.

"Pettigrew?" said Lucius.

Bellatrix nodded amusedly.

"What does he want?"

Bellatrix handed the note to Lucius as she pulled up the sheet that was covering her body. "It seems the rat has done well with the Dark Lord's gift for him, he seems to suit being a bird master." He raised his eyebrows in curiosity as she continued. "According to him, your son has uncovered a vital detail…" Lucius looked at her for a moment wondering how Bellatrix had thought of something so ingenious that she had actually lugged out the usefulness of his uncooperative son.

"A vital detail indeed," he soliloquized before turning away from Bellatrix and heading to the door. "We must act," he said curtly.

"Lucius… you are forgetting that there is something else…" added Bellatrix as he laid his hand on the snake carved door knob. He looked back at her knowing almost immediately what she was talking about. There was another plan they had planned to pursue before this.

He gave her a most mischievous smile as an idea came to him. "Then this something, I shall leave to you," he said. Bellatrix's eyes darkened immediately as she grasped his meaning.

Lucius stepped out of the door but not before turning back to her. "Though I must insist that you make haste, a week must be sufficient for you. For you know after that, the full moon is due," The door closed behind him.

Smiling deridingly, Bellatrix turned to her pet and stroked the ebony plume affectionately as she set it out through the window. "There my precious, go find yourself a rat… though not one with a silver claw. We cannot loose that one yet I'm afraid…"

And the Raven, never fitting, still is sitting **still** is sitting

On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;

And his eyes have all seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,

And the lamplight over him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

Shall be lifted— nevermore!


	9. Chapter 9

A/N :**Summary: **Hardly much romance in this once, Draco comes out of his "dark place" and makes an effort to talk to Herm in a conversation excluding insults. Ginny is caught up in a new kind of magic and Hogwarts is full of sin! Yes Sin… you'll know what I mean soon… Angst, angst, angst scattered all around the pages of Forbearance… hey, I'm thinking of changing the story title… I'm getting kinda sick of it…well. Harry sulks all the more and Seamus is Irish! Hey, we already knew that didn't we… anyway, on with the show!

If you **have** to look along the shaft of an arrow from the wrong end, if a man has you entirely at his mercy, then hope like hell that man is an evil man. Because the evil like power ... they'll talk. They'll gloat...

_So hope like hell your captor is an evil man. A good man will kill you with hardly a word. _

Terry and Lyn Pratchett,

_Chapter Nine; Evil Befalls_

_Part One: Alchemy_

_Nothing can be gained if nothing is to be sacrificed, you must present something of equivalent value to gain something. Thus is the rule of alchemy._

"Of all the most unreasonable irresponsible things I have ever heard from the both of you!" Professor Mc Gonnagal's head was floating in the fireplace of the Brentenoux infirmary as upset and disappointed as if she had been done a great wrong. Instead of the fires gleaming green around her head, they retained their usual red blaze, which gave Hermione quite a vivid idea of how angry McGonnagal really was.

Hermione and Mafoy were in the infirmary both having the discomfort of hearing the most embarrassing sermon they have ever been through in their entire Hogwarts experience. Draco on the other corner of the room who was having his would dressed up by the nurse Francoise was certainly trying to hide his embarrassment at being fumed at by an evidently disappointed Professor McGonnagal. Unfortunately for Malfoy and Hermione, the incident outside the castle library was hardly ignored by Fleur as she promptly reported every single detail of it to Professor McGonnagal.

Hermione sat flushed in front of the fireplace with her hands interlaced not daring to believe that she had neglected her responsibility— the biggest responsibility she had obtained in her sixth year and the responsibility that had parallel effect on her head candidacy. In the back of her mind she thought of Harry and Ron who were waiting outside the infirmary office for her. They were probably done having their wounds tended to, though she doubted Malcolm Baddock would be up at once, after all she had made a big mess of him when she sent him hurling towards the stone wall.

"Professor…" pleaded Hermione meekly. Professor Mc Gonnagal immediately displaced her effort to apologize.

"No Miss Granger… I am _most_ disappointed in you! You of all people should be adverse to this sort of childishness," she stopped to turn to Malfoy who looked at her squarely in the eye. One could faintly see his pale lips twitch. "And you Mr. Malfoy must at least have the sense to be civil, do tell me, where are all the _proper graces_ _your _family prides itself in?"

Hermione took the moment to glance at Draco who seemed to be unfazed by the statement. In fact, she was fairly sure that Malfoy knew very well that the social graces being taught to him in the Malfoy household did not take effect by the looks of how he and his family regarded other wizards which they believed was lower them. Hermione grimaced suddenly; taking Malfoy's discourteous treatment of her for example…

"Not even doing anything to stop the riot, unbelievably irresponsible!" continued the Professor as she turned to Hermione "And Miss Granger hurling a fellow student into a stone wall!" Hermione looked down at her interlaced hands remembering the damage she had don't to Malcolm Baddock a while back. "And Albus keeps ranting about inter-house relationships…"

Draco snickered as he looked mockingly at Hermione, yet he could not hold his joyful stance long enough to enjoy it. For Professor McGonnagal glared at him immediately in annoyance. "Mr. Malfoy if you have the sense to laugh now would you mind giving me an explanation as to why you did not do anything much to prevent this from happening!" Draco's smile disappeared immediately to be replaced by a peeved expression. His lips curved into a deep frown at the words of the Professor. "Never in my all my Hogwarts years have I experienced the shame I do now, imagine misconduct in a foreign institution, utterly unacceptable!"

"I hope you both realize the precariousness of your situations…I would like you to know that this unprecedented state of affairs will definitely affect your head candidacies…" Her statement seemed to affect Draco and Hermione quite equally, as they both looked up simultaneously and gawked at Mc Gonnagal.

Malfoy frowned. He would certainly not like it if one of another house would snatch the title of head boy from him when he was the most likely candidate, especially so if it would be Harry Potter. A sudden anger flared up in his chest at the reminiscence of Harry… He was partly the reason why the both of them were in this mess. He raised his free arm to slightly brush the bruises Potter made on his cheek swearing to himself that Harry Potter would pay dearly for even daring to hit a Malfoy.

Hermione felt a sudden shock of selfishness plague her as Professor Mc Gonnagal said those very words. She did not wish to hog the head girl position all to herself, for she knew that there were other competent candidates to that prestigious position but then she had always expected to be head girl. He had always known that she would be chosen. It would be an enormous to her insult if she did not make it.

"Both of you will receive corresponding deductions from your points in favor of the Head Positions and your houses respectively. Fifty Points a piece to you and all of those involved in the little shenanigan you and the rest have made earlier." Said Mc Gonnagal firmly. Hermione could not restrain a loud gasp.

"Fifty? A Piece?" she repeated weakly. The expression of disbelief seemed to once again make reappearance on his face. Hermione glanced at him for a brief moment realizing that Malfoy was perhaps more conscious of his grades that she thought.

Professor Mc Gonnagal spoke once more. "I do not know whether I should trust you with the student body from now on, yet in the mean time, seeing as to none of the teachers cannot leave Hogwarts –" She broke off abruptly and her eyes held an expression of disappointment. Hermione's eyes squinted in concentration. She had indeed wondered why the teachers had all rushed back to England, not even considering the fact that the sixth year student body could possibly be unprotected when left in a magical creature institute… a bestiary. "The both of you will still be in charge, though I have sought out the help of Miss Delacour to be sure of things. That will be all," finished Professor Mc Gonnagal.

The Professor's head then curiously turned to Draco as he began to leave the room. "Mr. Malfoy," she said stiffly. "I would like a further word with you. You may go Miss Granger," Hermione stood up and bowed slightly to Professor Mc Gonnagal's head floating in the fire.

Hermione took one last glance at Professor McGonnagal and then at Malfoy who had his arm tightly bandaged in a curious blue fabric. His eyes were extraordinarily dull as he turned around and headed towards the fireplace. She glanced back at Malfoy's arm. Her mind suddenly drifted away from the shock she felt when she heard that Gryffindor would be loosing all those house points, but then she began to wonder once again why the wounds Malfoy had obtained from the Sirens talons had not yet healed. It had to be a week from that time they came back from the forests. Hermione turned towards the door, thinking why was she even fussing; it was only Malfoy after all.

Somehow, even as she thought those very words, her heart was slowly constricting in guilty denial.

Harry and Ron were waiting for Hemrione outside the door of the infirmary office, and as Hermione rushed out of the door. Seeing her, the two both hastened to her, defiant to squeeze out every detail of their talk with McGonnagal.

Ron was limping slightly and his face was covered in small strips of plaster and Harry had a few bruises on his face. Aside from that Hermione was thankful that they were both fine. Malfoy's earlier blow to Harry's face left a curious half 'M' mark on his upper jaw. Hermione noticed that it was probably from the signet ring that Malfoy wore. As Harry stood in front of her, she raised her hand to touch the fine red mark and examined it curiously.

"It'll leave a scar," she said absentmindedly. Harry raised his hand as well and grasped Hermione's wrist, pulling it away from his face. He looked at her with mock disappointment.

"I've got into much trouble with enough scars on my face thank you," said Harry with a small smile. Hermione smiled wearily back at him.

There was an odd snort and Hermione, startled turned to her left where she saw Malcolm Baddock who was sprawled across the bed beside the door of the infirmary office, unconscious and wrapped in bandages. He was also fast asleep snoring like a grizzly in hibernation. Hermione motioned to move away quite quickly as she could no longer stand the guilt of looking at an injury that she had induced. The trio made their way to the hallway outside the infirmary with Ron hanging on Harry's shoulder.

"So?" said Ron restlessly. "What did she say?" he and Harry turned to Hermione curiously.

"She was quite peeved," started Hermione. "She made quite a clear point how I neglected my responsibilities and how…" she stopped, remembering how McGonnagal told them that her neglect would affect her Head candidacy. "How I would have to work extra hard from now on," she said abruptly walking a tad faster ahead of her two best friends. Harry and Ron looked at each other and with extreme effort from Ron who was hobbling down the hallway caught up to her.

"What do you mean?" asked Harry calmly. Hermione stopped to turn to her two best friends.

"She said it would affect my Head candidacy, I can't have that! If it takes that grave an influence, I'll never get a shot at being head girl!"

"Hermione calm down," said Harry looking at her like she was an escapee from St. Mungo's.

Hermione certainly did not make an effort to show to them that she was not. "Calm down! My parents would be devastated! And If I'm not Head Girl then I'll get to see another girl with higher student authority than me! And that can't happen, it just can't! Being Head Girl is…" Ron immediately cut his hand in front of Hermione's hopelessly forlorn face.

"We meant to ask if we were to be expelled of punished for the incident Hermione," he said. Hermione drifted back to her less panicked state as she looked back at Ron. "Oh, yes of course…" she muttered.

"What!" said Harry and Ron simultaneously. Hermione seemed startled.

"Oh no, I mean no. Of course were not going to be expelled! How could you think of such a horrible thing Ron!" she exclaimed tugging at a curl that had fallen over her eyes.

Hermione's panicked expression returned when she told them the punishment that Gryffindor house would receive.

Ron looked hopeless. "That's a hundred and fifty,"

"Yes, quite a big number… I have absolutely no idea on how we can regain so much that is lost," mussed Hermione as they continued to walk down the hallway.

They turned a few corridors and found themselves right in front of the Grand dinning hall.

"There's nothing much we can do now. Perhaps nothing but to keep our noses clean," said Ron as he limped a few steps before they reached the door.

"Man, this ankle is killing me," said Ron as he took an unsteady step into the Grand Dinning Hall. Harry managed to balance his best friend before he fell flat on his face on the stone floor. "Baddock certainly got what he deserved," he smiled as he remembered the sight of the heavy Slytherin boy hitting the wall and falling unconscious. "You've got a pretty impressive wand aim Mione,"

Hermione smiled weakly. Her 'pretty impressive wand aim' was of course cost Gryffindor a hundred and fifty house points.

They headed towards the Gryffindor's table where Dean and Seamus were already sitted.

"Oi, Harry Ron," said Seamus coming to meet them as they came walking down the isle. Seamus looked down at Ron's leg and shook his head with sympathy. "The incident in the hallway."

"Unfortunately, it was Baddock's big lumpy knee that nicked it, glad Mione gave him what's fit," Ron continued with a laugh. Hermione was uncomfortably reminded once again of the trouble she would be in if Malcolm Baddock's mother would come storming into Brentenoux to curse her. She glared at Ron.

"Do you realize how much trouble I'm going to be in once Baddock's family gets hold of the information that a muggle-born put their son in the infirmary?" she exclaimed with a slight squeak in her voice. As the trio took their seats on the table, Hermione began contemplating once again of the consequences of her actions.

"I don't think she's going to even try showing her face around here… If I had a son like him, I would be embarrassed! Being rendered unconscious by a girl!" replied Ron as he shifted in his seat beside Harry.

"And what's wrong with being a girl?" said a shrill voice behind them. Ron turned around at the sight of his girlfriend's smiling face. He held his arms open and welcomed her in for a warm embrace. "Nothing Lav," Lavender assumed her place beside Ron at the table, she immediately looked up at the trio with questioning eyes.

"Now, who got rendered unconscious by a girl?" she asked eagerly. Hermione turned to her with an eye of seriousness as Ron grinned.

"Hermione. She sent Malcolm Baddock hurling towards the wall, in the library," said Ron observing Lavander's amused expression. She found it hard to believe that Hermione would do something like that without reason. "For what?" she immediately inquired twirling one of her blonde locks.

"Crushing Ron's ankle," said Seamus suddenly who was behind her. "Yep, saw the whole thing meself, and so did Dean, didn't you mate?" Dean nodded as he continued to discuss with Harry about Quidditch. Ron blushed as Lavander hurried to seek his injured appendage.

"My my darling, that Slytherin is indeed vile," she exclaimed as she reached under the table to stroke Ron's wounded ankle tenderly.

"It was irresponsible," commented Hermione briskly and a tad guiltily. She rose to leave the hall remembering all the unfinished work she left on the table of the study room in their headquarters.

"Anyway, How did Mc Gonnagal react?" asked Semus. Hermione shook her head slowly.

"She was furious, as expected." She said. "And Gryffindor lost a hundred and fifty…" she continued disappointedly.

Seamus and Lavender stared. "A hundred and fifty?" said Lavender weakly.

Ron wrinkled his nose disapprovingly. "It wasn't our fault to begin with, Malfoy started it…"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, It was rather foul. He did provoke Harry, but nevertheless it was irresponsible for all of us…"

Her simple statement made Harry turn away from his conversation with dean and react savagely. Harry looked up. "It was irresponsible for me Hermione?" he asked looking seriously at her. Hermione was having a hard time meeting Harry's eye. "He made fun of my mother!" Harry's voice was beginning to shake.

"No Harry, I meant… yes!" she was beginning to grow tired of denying things to her friends. "It was irresponsible of you, it was also irresponsible of Malfoy. You should be hardened to this Harry, all these years Malfoy taunted you ever since you refused his offer of friendship, shouldn't you have learned to ignore it?" Harry looked at her with a stunned expression.

"Malfoy was supposed to be civil, because he had responsibility like me but didn't use it,"

Ron eyed Hermione as well. "Whose side are you on?" he said rather critically. "You're saying that Harry was childish and Malfoy was just… irresponsible. Hermione, what's happening to you! Protecting that… that foul piece of scum?"

Hermione held back a sob in her throat. "So now you think I'm defending Malfoy!" the pressure was building up inside her. All of the Gryffindors sitting on the table were eyeing her either with curiosity or astonishment.

Hermione's heart began to feel that constricting pain it had felt as she had exited the infirmary a few moment's before. She felt like she was being accused, by the sound of how Harry and Ron addressed her with. She was beginning to think that she was defending Malfoy absentmindedly.

"No Hermione, I didn't mean…" started Ron as Hermione began to stand up, opting to leave the table.

"Ron Weasley! You haven't changed! You're as presumptuous as you have always been!" exclaimed Hermione as she fought back tears. Ron's cheeks began to burn again even as Lavender held his hand tightly under the table. "Hermione," Lavender started… but she wasn't listening. She was starting to walk away from the table.

Harry stood up at that moment, and reached out for Hermione's wrist, pulling her back gently to the table as she started to leave. Hermione turned back around and met Harry's deep green eyes and stopped. The sincerity and depth of those emerald pools of truth told her… she knew that he forgave her.

The Grand Dinning Hall began to grow silent as most of the people in the hall were eying Harry and Hermione with curiosity.

"He didn't mean it Hermione," said Harry quietly not even gesturing to Ron, neither breaking the eye contact with Hermione. He knew her, she would never think against him without reason, no matter how she spoke; he would always forgive her.

Draco left the infirmary with a heavy and bulky blue potion and his arm in a sling after both Professor McGonnagal and Françoise were both through with him. He walked out of the office infirmary after the Professor's head disappeared completely into the flames of the hearth mussing over her words of caution telling him to make sure that the dosage of the potion he had been given be completed. He didn't think that he had ever heard a more eerie warning from the old Professor.

As he trudged down the hallway from the infirmary, his thoughts whirled with the memory of the fight by the library. Draco's thin pale lips twisted into an expression of pure annoyance at the recollection. All the trouble it had caused him, an unbearable sermon, three hundred points off his house while Gryffindor only had a hundred and fifty off, and the relevance of his injury to the veela nurse Françoise. Yes, Draco knew she was or had to be part veela like Fleur to be that beautiful. Draco had veela blood in him as well, from his father's side of the family, so he was never affected by the desirability of the race veela. Draco was beginning to think that apart from Madame Mimuex, the entire Brentenoux castle was run by veelas.

Taking his mind off the nurse who had attended to him earlier, he continued to pace the stone floors of the hallway until he turned and found his way a few hallways nearing the Grand Dinning Hall. His mind reeled back to the irresponsibility that he had been convinced to have committed by Professor McGonnagal.

The fight itself seemed but a distant memory to him then. He could not remember what he had been thinking that time he had approached Potter and his two insufferable sidekicks. All he knew was that he had been annoyed, infuriated at the mere sight of the three friends standing there, laughing together as they walked through the hallway, so happy, seeming so insufferably content. His mind flared up on that fateful moment when he had been pushed, aggravated to the point that he had spoke against Potter immediately, determined to break their exasperatingly cheerful state of mind.

He couldn't help but mock Weasley, couldn't help but remind him that he was nothing but a piece of scum. Perhaps even the fungus growing beneath the scum as he was the lowest excuse for wizard there ever was. If he ever made a mark, it was probably because Potter had been with him, dragging him along with his nonessential fame, and if he had ever passed a class, it would have been because Granger helped him.

And oh Granger… Draco's teeth gritted at the thought of her. The sight of her clinging to Potter was the most intolerable vista he had ever witnessed. How she defended him so openly, so righteously. Malfoy's lips once again twisted into a bitter frown at the thought. How Granger had forced him to admit that Potter had no fault in his injury, when she could never know how much Potter had already wounded him. Yes, Harry Potter had left a permanent scathe on Draco's life ever since he dared refuse his friendship. Oddly, he could not help but think that his hatred of Potter had worsened gravely when he saw Hermione and Harry in the Grand Dining Hall doors together the other day. Looking so much like a perfect couple… At that moment, his chest constricted with something odd. Something not like the hatred he had always felt, but with a sharp pain… Draco's hand balled in a fist.

He couldn't stop. He was thinking about her again, Granger… as she looked intensely at him a few moments back and he knew that he could never lie. She held so much righteousness and purity that it was unnerving. He knew that those were just some of the things that that he could never have, nor ever hope to possess.

Perhaps that was what drew him to her that was what made him hate her and Potter for, that perhaps they would be happy together because they were alike. And he hated them because he could never admit that he was disturbed about Potter and Granger being together.

Draco's footsteps grew into angry trudges as he approached the entrance of the Grand Dinning Hall, struggling to convince himself that what he felt was not envy. _Granger means nothing to you… _

Somehow those words seemed to loose their resonance as he entered the dinning hall, catching the scene that almost everybody in the hall were focused on. Potter with his hand on Granger's wrist; pulling her back to him. At that very moment, there shot a pure white anger up Draco's spine.

A cold autumn breeze engulfed the Northern sky as she rushed through the forest, snagging leaves in her damp clothes and hair, branches among the bushes creating seams in her garments, wounding her painfully as well. The sordid ambiance of the weary night began to swallow the trees on their abysmal darkness.

_She continued her flight, as she heard more and more footsteps crunching against the fire colored leaves of the forest floor, pursuing, chasing... threatening. Her breath was deathly close to running out as she continued dashing away hopelessly from her pursuers, craving nothing but safety in the walls of the great castle behind her. That however, was impossible at this point as she found herself carrying on a hopeless sprint growing dangerously away from the castle, unknowingly leading herself into a dead end._

_It was not long after that she found herself in a part of the forest where the trees were so close together that it was impossible to go any further. Her heartbeat almost halted as she turned around and faced her captors. They were all masked, but somehow she was quite sure of the sneers that were underneath each porcelain visor of the Death Eaters._

"_Quite adorable… isn't she?" said a shrill woman's voice that the girl knew almost too well. In the pocket of her robes, her hand was clutched around her wand even though she was certain that if she ever did try to draw it, any one of the horrible people before her would definitely beat her to it._

_As if reading her mind, the man called Dolhov spoke. "Don't bother even touching your wand, don't even hope that you'll escape us.." he said with a sneer. There was a scratching noise among the masked wizards, the girl did not even want to think what was making the sound fearing it would be just as horrible as she thought the fate she would soon befall would be._

_It was a hopeless case, yet she promised that she would never go down without a fight. Within a mere second, she drew her want into sight pointing it at the Death Eaters surrounding her._

"_Stupe… Ahhhh!" The black haired woman had beaten her to it._

"_CRUCIO!"_

"There is an ancient branch of alchemy whose principles are reputed to be the roots of Transfiguration itself. It follows the rule of equivalent trade which states that: Nothing can be gained if nothing is sacrificed, you must present something of equivalent value in order to gain something, thus is the rule of alchemy."

Ginny rested her chin nonchalantly on her hand as her transfiguration class droned on. She took a few notes as Professor McGonnagal continued to lecture on her podium. Colin was busy scribbling beside her, she believed that at the rate he was going, he would probably be able to produce a fully furnished lesson plan of McGonnagal if he kept at it. His large peacock feathered quill brushed annoyingly beside her as he progressed, and she immediately pulled her hand away from its reach.

She glanced out the window for a moment and wondered how her brother and Harry and Hermione were doing a hundred miles south of Hogwarts at the moment. She twirled playfully at her auburn hair as she turned her attention back to McGonnagal and her lecture.

"The practice referred to in the old days as alchemy was practiced in some European countries, in Munich, for instance where the first traces of these were found. In the scriptures recovered, it was said to be practiced in a community in the ancient city named Loire. In the 14th century, wizards became aware of this practice and tried it out for themselves, and for a while marveled at the power of this magic. Anyway," McGonnagal tapped her wand on the blackboard and on it appeared an intricate circular design with various lines running across it's diameter forming a beautiful pattern.

"This," McGonnagal continued, "Is called or rather was called a Transmutation circle. It was required in performing what we would recognize now as our very own transfiguration. Yes mister Havoc?" McGonnagal turned to the Slytherin at the corner of the room who just raised his hand lazily.

"Professor, is it then for us to assume that wizards at that time could only perform transfiguration with the use of these circles…"

"I never said," the Professor cut Havoc away impatiently "that _wizards_ made use of the transmutation circles, wizards most conveniently have their wands to cast and use as a medium for their power. The only people who used these transmutation circles were what we would call alchemists." McGonnagal looked sternly across her class as another hand rose in the air. "Yes Creevy?"

"How different are alchemists from wizards professor?" asked Colin.

McGonnagal adjusted her glasses amusedly on her nose as she answered. "Alchemists first and foremost are bound to a single principle, the one I have said earlier; the principle of equivalent trade. The concept of alchemy is merely to turn things into other things with equivalent value, as I were to turn a broken goblet into a fixed one or a bag of sand into a blocks of bricks…"

"Sounds rather boring if you ask me..." commented Havoc from the back corner once more.

"Or a field of dirt into a palace." McGonnagal finished evenly pretending Havoc had not spoken. The entire class became suddenly engrossed by the topic by the minute. "Alchemists do not practice charms or divination as wizards do and rarely practice potion making, but nonetheless, their advantage in their skills of transfiguration is great, they do not experience nothing of the difficulties in transforming what they want such that we wizards do"

"Professor McGonnagal? Do alchemists exist now, I mean in our generation?" asked Ginny.

"Surprisingly Ms. Weasley, yes they most certainly do. Then again there are may wizards whose skill in transfiguration prompt them to study alchemy, for it is a fine art, an in-depth study of transfiguration if you will," said the Professor.

"Can you show us professor, how is looks like to transfigure by alchemy?" asked Ginny once more. She had grown increasingly curious.

The Professor moved over to her desk and smiled. "Perhaps, for a little demonstration I could oblige. Now everyone look here if you are interested," Taking hold of her wand she tapped her front desk as another intricately crafted transmutation circle appeared upon it. "Raw objects which one wises to transform should be set within the bounds of the circle, transformation of great proportions therefore require larger circles, or circles with more intricate and powerful symbolism," She said as she placed random objects at the center of her desks with her wand. Perhaps it was rather curious that she was using magic before casting alchemy. As she began, a few objects were laid out in front of her; a large glass vase filled with water, a marble slab and some seeds. The professor then laid her wand on the edge of the table and placed both of her hands flat on the table within the circle.

In but a second, a bright blue light began to radiate from the pattern and obscured the objects laid our in front of her. A few of the students raised their arms in front of their faces to block the intense glare of the light. But the light had disappeared soon after, and there before the eyes of the entire fifth year class what had been a useless bunch of objects previously was now a miniature glass fountain with a marble base and a few blossoms of violets growing beneath. The class stared in awe.

"Bloody hell," said Colin amazedly at the sight. He immediately received a disapproving stare from the professor.

"There you have it, a demonstration of simple alchemy," said McGonnagal rather confidently. "Of course, greater alchemists could do greater feats…" she had been saying as she was suddenly interrupted.

"But shouldn't alchemists hate wizards," a quiet silence engulfed the room as all heads turned to the speaker. She was a thin blonde girl who wore on her hair a bright red barrette increasingly noticeable from any corner of the room. She was a Slytherin obviously from the colors she wore and she had that trademark Slytherin defiant gaze. "The rule of equivalent trade is a creed by which alchemists are bound, there is only one way that it is broken and that, even that is a myth. Wizards do transformations that brake the bounds of the principles of equivalent trade, they must think that magic is rather well, unlawful really"

The professor looked even more amused than before. "That is quite an insightful observation Ms. Hawkeye and I believe there is some… no rather…much truth to that matter. Several conflicts have been caused by, misgivings between wizards and alchemists. Wizards do not abide by rules of evenhandedness that as the alchemists do, yet then again nothing is fair in this world anymore, perhaps but only just. In fact there may be only one principle that wizards and alchemists commonly abide by, and that, not surprisingly is their belief that neither alchemy nor magic can be used to revive the dead. Necromancy is the term we wizards use to define the sort of magic used to revive the dead, for a fact it is known as the worse sort of magic in existence and counts as a capital offence in the books of law at the Ministry of Magic. It also has a punishment of at least six…"

"Seven," said Hawkeye politely.

McGonnagal continued on. "Yes, thank you Ms. Hawkeye, Seven counts of the dementor's kiss. Anyway, I believe that is the end of our period. Discussions on the history and functions of alchemy will continue on until the end of the term. You may all go."

Ginny pulled off the strap of her tote bag off her shoulder as she laid it down atop the table. The library had been if not for Elizabeth Hawkeye sitting at the corner of the room empty when she entered a few moments before. She sat down on one of the oak chairs cushioned with velvet and opened a book she had pulled out of her bag. It was entitled; _The 10th Goblin Rebellion of Bedfordshire. _And it was _probably _the most "_interesting" _book she had ever read. With an audible groan she began pursuing the seemingly endless array of barely enjoyable articles in the book. A few words of acknowledgement to her History of Magic teacher who gave her such an unpleasant assignment ran through her head as she turned the pages; _Binns is a moron._

A few pages passed and she realized that the book could hardly grasp her attention if it had hands and could gouge out her eyeballs. She began looking up from it and looked around the library, silently telling herself that she'd later prod Colin with a spear repeatedly if she had to so he would let her copy off his essay.

Several people had poured into the library and filled the tables in-front of her. Some giggling Hufflepuff third years and a few Gryffindors. Dennis Creevy, Colin's brother was sitting with some fourth year Gryffindors apparently narrating the tale of Malcolm Mallory, the Mad Muggle to his companions. Hawkeye still sat at the corner where she had been previously and was continually pouring over a book that seemed to catch her attention so much. _Good for her._ Thought Ginny miserably as she pushed _'The 10th Goblin Rebellion of Bedfordshire'_ aside until it was positioned at the far corner of the table. She then decided to get a more sensible book to read.

The bookcases of the Hogwarts library were extremely old. Ron had once said that they had probably never replaced anything of the sort in the castle since the founders had lived within it's walls. Ginny passed across the _magical monstrosities _section and entered into the isle that the entrance of the restricted section was perpendicular to. The entrance had a gleaming gold plate on which in bold letters the words **RESTRICTED SECTION** was written. The plate was hung loosely on the great wooden door… the door, which was perhaps most curiously hanging partially open.

Funny, Madame Pince hardly ever opened the restricted section. And now to find it here practically gawking open, somehow beckoning enticingly at her, the feeling had been quite like a warm rush of blood as it pumped up her spine. Ginny looked around her for a moment and then without a moment's hesitation, she made her way quietly inside the dark room carefully checking to look outside to see if anybody had noticed. Satisfied, she seethed herself within the dim room and ran her eyes through the books with more incentive then she had ever thought herself capable of.

_Do you weep once in a while?_

_Do you wonder why you dream and cannot remember?_

He ran is hands along the lines of the parchment he had previously writing on a few moments ago, trying effortlessly to straighten the creases in it. His discontentment was shown unmistakably obvious in his hard-set features so intensely that his white-blonde hair seemed to be darkening along with his mood. Perhaps this was due to the evident mess the way the words on the parchment were written in; there were splotches of ink in all the wrong places and halts and scratches where it was so unsightly.

Draco somehow found it in him to look even more miserable at the moment. The tip of his quill had after all broken at least a dozen times all throughout the ordeal of writing the report for the godforsaken project so he could hardly expect a clean outcome, he thought as he tossed the piece of parchment across the table.

'_Sirens are mellow musicians which grace the empty seas with their angelic voices…'_

'_Sirens are dangerous when they want to be'_

'_Sirens are rueful, horrible, vengeful creatures that tear their victims most savagely to pieces' _

These words hung at the bottom of the parchment of the essay he had just written. For a moment he stared at the three last lines and could not help but think that they remembered a logical fallacy, or maybe a paradox… no, something was more appropriate… an _irony_.

He looked up from the parchment and observed the view of the early afternoon October sky. He was sitting in the common room of their headquarters and though he reclined carelessly on the black leather couches, he felt that agitation he had been feeling since he had trudged _civilly _into the grand dinning hall that morning and ate his breakfast, _not even having spared the sight of those bloody Gryffindors _exposing their attention-seeking selves to the world further. No… his raw white annoyance could have hardly died down… not after that. Not after a hardly ignorable pang of hate had rushed up his spine so viciously at that very moment when he saw…

_Does your heart bleed when you breathe?_

_Does it pain you to live?_

_Are you cold?_

Perhaps it seemed that the most reasonable thing to do after the marvelous fiasco earlier that day, was to continue on with his report. Though how pointless it seemed, it kept his hands busy possibly from wanting so much to wring a certain Gryffindor's neck. Free guesses for who could that green-eyed, tangly-haired, scar headed person that could be.

He could hardly reason with himself for feeling not only annoyance but also even more startlingly, anger. Why wasn't it true that if he were to find himself in the same similar situation three years ago, that he would feel not annoyance, not anger, but glee and mirth that it would be yet another chance to mock the Gryffindors for yet another embarrassing feat? Why would he be there wanting much more to hate Harry Potter for a reason that did not even concern Draco, for a reason that he was making excuses just to justify for, when he never did, not even for something that concerned his life.

Then of all circumstances why… why would he be in this one, asking himself desperately; '_Would it not have been different if it weren't for her?' _ for indeed she was a part of this, and she was the reason for all this.

Who was she, to force in him alteration not only in his mind but also in his very _being_? Who was she to invoke within him change he did not even want to yield to? He did not even want her, he was raised to want nothing but power… but then… there was always something else. The world was not created with a single path that one had to follow, that all would follow. Nothing is that simple. That is why life is so cruel.

He ran a thin hand against his fine hair taking a shallow breath though knowing he had little to relax about. A few moments passed as he sat in silence, wondering intently how he was to spend the next weeks that counted on him holding himself casually around _her_ for it's success. He could not even look at her anymore without his mind throwing itself in a fit of rage… he felt that he hated her for some reason, and some curiously small voice in his head said it was because she attracted him in a way that no one other could, and somehow it was this conflict why it had to be _her_. Because yes, heaven knew that he was, even in the most miniscule way attracted to her. Heaven knew, perhaps he had to know it for himself.

_Do you cry because your world is dying?_

_Do you ever hate?_

And then suddenly, as if heaven had indeed been playing a trick on him, the common room's glass door opened perhaps even dramatically, and Draco found himself looking with equal curiosity at Hermione who held just a startled emotion as he. And coincidentally, he felt a surge of pain run across his injured arm at that very moment.

Perhaps as he faced her then, the same nagging voice in the back of his head asked told him that he would have probably stopped breathing at that moment if another instant passed without him being in her presence.

_Is your breath short?_

_Do you feel anything at all?_

_Dark angel, with your sick, twisted beauty…_

_Are you mad because you love?_

_Well you are… for love is a mortal madness… _

Ginny ran her eyes over the numerous books in the restricted section with increasing curiosity. It seemed quite amazing that every single book in that section had a hidden reason for being there, that each of them had something to conceal.

Walking quietly among the isles of the bookcases, she found herself among the _'Magical Malign' _section. It was located at the far side of the room adjacent to a stonewall. She tugged nervously at her uniform collar, as if it provided the comfort of being able to breathe better, for no one could tell what punishment would befall her if she were to be caught. Yet Gryffindor curiosity got the better of her, and perhaps it gave her a tinkling urge to carry on.

A torch hung over the isle where she was in, casting eerie shadows against the stone floor. And then she looked up at the shelves to her right quite in time to see a heavily gilded book fling itself against the wall opposite it. Ginny jumped slightly startled. Harry had once told her that many of the books in the restricted section had chains attached to them because some of them literally ate human flesh, or caused unsightly boils or blisters on the reader. Ginny bent down and observed the book closely; it was thankfully, not one of the chained books she had heard of. No chains or restraints, it seemed just an ornately crafted book with old pages sticking out of its side. Ginny reached out to read its title, hesitated for a moment and the finally turned it over. On the cover, a familiar intricate pattern was drawn; it was a transmutation circle. And just below, a single gilded word shone brightly against the dim torchlight._ Alchemy._

A chill ran up Ginny's spine as she lifted the book off the floor and opened the first page. A shuffling was heard in the distant library and she decided to leave. Quickly stuffing the book in the interior of her robes, and without little thought, she rushed out of the restricted section, with that same fervent chill running through her as she did so.

_A dark shadow lurked quietly among the isles of books as the girl passed through. And then, as the girl left with a single book hidden in her garments it moved noiselessly towards the door and changed seamlessly into the familiar green and silver robes and the flowing blonde locks it boar everyday from that day six years ago._

_She had passed through the halls and passages of the school everyday and they barely noticed that she was any different from them. Perhaps it was her characteristic scarlet eyes, or her nervously starling white complexion that hurled her away from popularity, but then again, perhaps it was because she knew that she wasn't exactly normal. And merely because she did not have other girls fawning over her like Blaise Zabini and the rest of the Slytherins back in the dungeons did, that did not mean she was not alone. She had __him after all, though he was a dark violent and perhaps even mad creature much unlike herself, she still had him, and they would act together when the time was right. _

_Though, that did not matter now, she had been sent to accomplish a task that would destroy a certain girl, and, if all went right, she could say that she accomplished it perfectly._

_She closed the door noiselessly and with a soft innocent deceiving smile to herself, she passed through the isles, out of the library._

Back at her table, Ginny reopened the book she had seemingly effortlessly snuck out of the restricted section and endowed herself in its old worn pages of surprisingly interesting facts. The Goblin Rebellion book lay forgotten on the side of the table as she continued to engross herself.

A small corner of her mind distantly noticed that among the new entrées in the library, Elizabeth Hawkeye was missing from the table where she had sat ever since.

Hermione's clammy hand tightened on the strap of her tote bag as she took minimal steps into the room. She had not expected Malfoy to be sitting so restful in the middle of the room with numerous paper work sprawled across the table facing him. In fact, she half expected him to be lying on his bed up on his room writing a letter to his father and asking him to have all the sirens in captivity obliterated for causing his injury. The other half of her expected him to be sulking off somewhere… anywhere, just not there; before her, looking at her without a single word with his eyes set once again in that misty gray stance. At that moment, she could have said that taunts would have been greatly appreciated.

She crossed the room quietly and sat down noiselessly on the couch by the far side of the table. It was the most space she could put between them. She quietly unraveled an enormous roll of scrolls that were perhaps nearly as thick as a cookie canister and set it on the table. And because the scrolls were so massive, a few quills of hers spilled out of her bags dropped to the floor and one found itself directly above Draco's black booted foot. Hermione began scrambling for the quills and looked up to see that Draco had also bent down to pick up that quill which had fallen near him, Hermione saw that it was the plump one that Harry had given to her in their third year. Malfoy looked at it as though it was the most revolting thing he had ever seen and placed it across the table.

"That, is perhaps the most unsightly plume I have ever seen," he said with an unavoidable tinge mirth in his voice. Hermione bit her lower lip trying to contain her urge to smile.

"It was a gift," she said, and then stopped herself. She was sure that he was one of the last people to want to hear Harry's name at the moment. Draco observed her closely with a cool gaze. Her hair was in its usual rumpled mess, though some curls were falling over her face. He looked away immediately and stopped himself from thinking once more of that want to brush the fallen locks away from her face. He closed his eyes and frowned deeply.

"It's done," he said quietly, still refusing to look at her.

Hermione looked up. "What?" she asked.

"All the final reports, all three hundred inches, they're done…" he continued with an uncanny deadpan voice.

Hermione looked over to the masses of parchment that were laid out before the both of them. The table was amassed with so many scrolls that contained referenced and comprehensive essays all written in Malfoy's slanted script. Hermione raised one of the scrolls to her eyes. That would mean that all their research and outputs were practically done. Hermione looked at the thick roll of scrolls, which she had compiled, if it was added to Malfoy's reports, they would be done, really done.

She stared with slightly maddening glee at the last pages of Malfoy's reports, but then frowned slightly. It was not that she had ever doubted he could accomplish such a feat but, that he would decide to do it all at once; at that very moment when the Gryffindors and Slytherins held themselves in a condition of turmoil.

"This is… excellent, we've completed the work of a month in two weeks time" said Hermione plainly. Draco looked back at her and surprisingly smirked.

"Of course it is." He said in a mock-offended voice. "I don't believe you would have expected anything less," Draco raised his chin haughtily and looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

Hermione, though sharing simultaneous feelings of amusement and annoyance clicked her tongue before speaking. "But then again, there is something…"

Draco once more put on a face as if he was being offended. "Something wrong with me Granger? For believe me, there's absolutely _nothing _wrong with me…"

Hermione smiled inwardly. "Your writing mood, it's too… _morbid," _She observed him coolly, the skylight above them cast delicate shadows on the smooth tendrils of his hair, his bright white hair against his white skin and his white eyes. It seemed so inhuman, god-like beauty that was concentrated into one being. No one should be created like that; many people have died for beauty like his. Have the deities blessed him so much that he possessed such an elegant eminence that seemed hardly mortal, did they bless him… or did they do exact reverse? Was it a blessing or was it a _curse_? (a/n: Hey! That rhymes!)

Draco smiled blankly, like she had seen him smile many times. It was not a real smile, no… she did not think that he could feel that genuinely happy, but it was a delicate gesture, like feeling amused yet on the verge of invoking sarcasm. "I was _not_ raised to view life in a flowers and daisies, happiness and glee sort of way Granger," He then looked at her blankly. "No one is raised like that Granger, it is next to impossible…"

Hermione looked down as he spoke. It seemed that every time they decided to take a crack at a decent conversation, she was opened up more and more to the possibility that maybe Malfoy was hardly contented with his lifestyle, or his destiny. His destiny perhaps was the most unlikely to have manipulability, for old families ran like rivers, in a single path, a single flow, a single destination. Yes indeed, he was what he was maybe because it would be hard to stray from the flow of tradition, even though tradition in terms of the Malfoy was hardly moral.

"Especially for you," she said quietly. Draco looked up at her and closed his eyes briefly. Looking at her felt so infuriating. It was the feeling that a child has when he passes a toy store and sees a beautiful toy soldier, and at the same time expresses his want for it only to hear his mother say a numbing '_No'._ There were things in this world that he could never have, and maybe that was a good thing. Some people are better off without things they _want. Hermione… _Did he even want her?

He opened his eyes and looked at her. It was to him now a sight indescribable by nature. The endless emotions… Desire, Delight, Delirium, Despair… Such was the pain of emotions that she so unwillingly caused him.

"Yes Granger, especially for me,"

Hermione felt a soft twinge of guilty delight as she heard her name, passing so quietly through his lips.

"I'm bored…"

Bellatrix Lextrange looked around at the interior of the Malfoy Fencing lounge haughtily as she played thoughtfully with the remaining peach martini in her wine glass as she sat on one of the long red chesterfield divan with her black booted foot positioned on the glass tea table.

"Then amuse yourself..." drawled Narcissa with a great twinge of hate evident in her voice.

Bellatrix laughed shrilly; it was like the madness had returned to her, as her bosom seemed to bounce fancifully atop her black whalebone corset. It would have almost looked funny or even attractive if someone else was sitting in Narcissa's place across her, fighting the strong urge to throw the ice bucket at her sister.

"Are you restless Cissy, the manor must hold many pleasures for you. What do _you_ do to engage yourself?" Bellarix Lestange said lazily with her drunken drawl as she took another swagger of her drink. Narcissa in turn took a deep breath and continued to run a golden thread through her fine needlework in which was sewn the Malfoy family seal and under which the family creed;

**Abyssus Abyssum Invocat; **Hell calls Hell; one misstep leads to another.

"Oh, you know Bella, a few things. Sort jewelry, antiques, poison bottles, weapons… the like…" A grim shadow lurked under Narcissa Malfoy's pale azure eyes as she observed her sister closely. "And of course attend to Lucius, when he's around…" she added quite intentionally.

And to that Bellatrix laughed quite maliciously. Her pale bosom rose even higher above the black corset as she heaved her chest in amusement, she had gotten quite drunk in the length of the sisters' stay at the Fencing lounge. "_Attend to, _Cissy? He hasn't been in your bed for days… are you daft? Surely you must realize how he carries himself around you! Ha!" Bellatrix laughed some more as Narcissa shifted in her seat still bent on concentrating on the blanket she was sewing as if her sister had spoken minus her crude mocking tone.

She raised her blonde head and met Bellatrix' despicably dreary black eyes. The fact that she was drunk had even added to her portentousness and overwhelmed her already careless self-confidence. "Think what you want," said Narcissa plainly.

"What I _want_? Or what Lucius _wants_… he _wants me,_ did you know? And he… he married you so you could bear the Dark Lord's _dauphin!_" she said in a slurred tone. "But then… you failed him _still_… the so-called _dauphin_ can't even obey his father… anymore… And it's because you spoiled him…" once more malicious laughter rung through the air, that the wine glasses hanging by the bar were beginning to shake, procuring a tinkling resonance.

"You're drunk Bella, you don't know what you're saying…" Narcissa said with equal calmness as she had spoken before, though she had stopped sewing and was now looking at her sister with an intensity that reeked of distaste.

"Ha!" the black haired woman stood up now approaching her sister in clumsy uncoordinated steps. "He doesn't want _you_! I'm here and he sleeps in _my bed_, he _ravishes me as never you… you are beneath—"_

"He _married me,"_ said Narcissa viciously with a trembling hand on her waistband where her marble wand was inserted, just under her corset and petticoat. "He had a _choice_ and he chose me! You know very well that you were unwed then as well and he gave me the ring… _not you…"_ The calmness in her voice had unbelievably remained though she half hissed the words she spoke. For a few moments Bellatrix seemed to look like she had been slapped violently in the face. Narcissa secretly content at her silent victory continued on. "I'm not the one sitting sleepless almost every night wondering what was missing… _why… WHY Lucius Malfoy never married me…_ I'm not that hopeless fool Bella. For truth, no matter how you desired him, you were never enough for him… face it, he 'wants' you only for the _sex…_"

At that Bellatrix lunged at her sister, in a few dramatic moments; her black hair seemed to cluster around her violently almost standing on angry ends; she briefly resembled Medusa. But Narcissa drew out her wand long before Bellatrix had moved and muttered incoherently to herself before pointing her wand directly at her sister.

"_Obliviate_!"

Bellatrix Lestrange blinked as she fell back on the black couch of the fencing room lounge. She looked curiously at her sister who cleverly sheathed her wand immediately between the numerous folds of her gown before Bellatrix opened her eyes.

Narcissa sat back down on the couch and continued her embroidery nonchalantly.

"What happened?" asked Bellatrix innocently with a perfectly sober tone. Narcissa smiled ingenuously.

"You had too much of the Goblin Vodka," she said as she motioned over to the half empty bottle by her needle box. "By the way, an owl came, Wormtail is calling you in France,"

"I was under the impression that I was having a peach martini…" she said as she looked over at the bottle which indeed had the words "Ciceronian Goblin Vodka" printed atop its vintage. Narcissa looked innocently over the bottle as well.

"Never liked Goblin Vodka myself Bella, makes me quite… unsettled at times… anyway, aren't you going to answer your call?" she said innocently.

Bellatrix, looking still disoriented stood up and straightened her dress out. "Right," she said quietly before she apparated, leaving Narcissa to crack a small mirthful smile.

'_The homunculus is a flaw of alchemy, and it is perhaps its' greatest pain. It is the creation of being through sin. Humans are deemed weak because of their incapacity to accept loss completely, and those who have power over other humans are the most unrelenting beings, convinced that they can change what has happened, convinced that they can return what has been lost. _

_The homunculi are a forbidden species, created only through a failed human transmutation. A human transmutation is said to be impossible, that dead souls created from the fundamental material elements that make up a mature human body; carbon, phosphorus, nitrogen, sulfur, are not enough to resurrect someone who has passed on. But to the human mind, acceptance of death is difficult, so even though Alchemy has forbidden human transmutation, many anguished people who have lost still try to resurrect, unable to overcome their loss._

_The result of failed human transmutation is said to be horrible. Those who have tried were doomed to even more loss, this time the loss of their body parts, their limbs and internal organs, sometimes their entire bodies, and even more horribly, in some unfortunate cases, their souls._

_Dark alchemists who sense the occurrence of a failed transmutation, and take the inhuman results of those unfortunates who created them bind them to a 'twin'; a false body in the likeness of the failed human transmutation capable of unearthly feats, and thus the Homunculus is born.'_

"_Have you not tired of reading that boring scripture Lust?" said a heavy voice from beyond the shadows of the dungeon. The blonde girl turned and looked at the impending presence for a moment and then returned to the thin scroll she held in her delicate white hands._

_She cocked her head and leaned against the wall of the chamber and closed her eyes. "Have you not taken to much to the fact that we're inhuman that you have to read it over and over and over…"_

_The girl called Lust turned to him. "Perhaps the question is, 'Have I not convinced myself to believe that once six years ago, someone wanted me, and missed me so much that he wanted me to live again,"_

_An eerie laugh rang throughout the dormitory as the Hogwarts clock struck midnight in the tower. The dark figure leered. "Or perhaps was stupid enough to even try human transmutation at all… Aren't you still submitted to the fact that we can never live human lives, the master…"_

"_The master created us to serve him, not for anything else. And I serve him, I serve him well, Envy," Her defiant red eyes seemed to shine even more intensely as she moved forward, revealing her face in the torchlight. _

_Envy stepped forward into the torchlight as well. He wore a long black cloak that went well with his black hair and bright yellow eyes. The mysterious ambiance about him was eminent and for some reason, Lust had never quite gotten over it. Envy leaned over to where Lust was slumped over on the floor by the wall, and bent to kneel in front of her. He placed a long white finger at the base of her neck and traced upwards until he touched her chin. "If you wish to return to that old alchemist that resurrected your weak, deformed body, and leave the master who restored your body and gave you so much power, then do so," He whispered cruelly. Lust closed her eyes as she leaned against the wall once more and touched his hand gently leading it away from her face. "If you return to him, if you return to your now crippled father as Elizabeth Hawkeye, he will run mad, for he knows you are dead. Trust me, he will run mad and he will die," _

_Lust raised her gaze once more and met his eyes. "Do you not remember, who tried to resurrect you? Who loved you enough to—" Envy looked at her hatefully._

"_No one could resurrect a dead soul without something of equivalent value. The old man tried to resurrect you lost more of his world than he did when you died; his wife, his land, his soul… his body is barely alive. Those are the effects of the failed Human transmutation. I do not care for those who tried to resurrect me! It would have been better for them and me if I had just remained dead…" Envy turned away from her, letting his dark hair fall over his bright yellow eyes. At the moment, he looked more inhuman than he really was. "I serve my master because he created me rightly, those monsters who tried to recreate me could not do it right, and if they knew they could not they didn't have to do it in the first place…"_

_Lust held her knees to her chest and hid her face. Envy would probably the only other one of her kind left; yet still he could not understand her. "The old man may die when he sees me, but I know I will make him happy even for just a moment before he runs mad, I will see him before my master calls, and you…"_

_Envy turned to her and looked at her viciously once more. "If you return to him, _I will _leave you… and you will never see me again,"_

_Lust looked at him defiantly, "You will not. You cannot leave me for you cannot return to the master just yet. We are yet to make an alchemist of the Weasley girl."_

_Envy frowned. "Drat." _

Lucius opened his eyes as the dawn fell upon the French scenery seen atop the Captieux Castle. Brentenoux was not far off but then it seemed such a long time before he could accomplish the capture.

"Master Lucius," Petigrew stammered quietly as the small man stepped closer towards the blonde man on the flagstones of the castle tower. "The men are ready, the only one missing is…"

A soft pop echoed through the tower as a tall black-haired woman appeared aside Pettigrew. "Is everything in order?" asked Bellatrix in a light voice. Lucius turned towards her and sported a fine smile of sinister confidence.

"It is time, lead them now Bella, call upon your companions and race to Brentenoux," said Lucius.

"May I go Master Lucius?" asked Pettigrew timidly.

"No!" said Lucius and Bellatrix almost simultaneously. Pettigrew vehemently frowned and stomped off towards the stone stairwell.

"Lucius," sighed Bellatrix softly. "Shall I take her here?"

Malfoy's blonde long hair seemed to flow in the impending zephyr blowing against the tower. He turned to her. "No, Harry Potter must not be able to herald for help once we achieve capture… take her, take her to the Manor,"

"Yes Lucius,"

"Go now, and make haste, as we shall take what means the very most to Harry Potter,"

Ginny pulled the clasp of her robes closer around her neck as she sat kneeling over a large chalk-drawn circular pattern on the astronomy tower floor. A large old book lay open beside her, and in the center of the circle was a large pile of rocks. Ginny inhaled a deep breath and crossed her fingers for the last time.

"Here goes nothing," she whispered softly as she closed her eyes and set both of her palms within the circular emblem, and a blinding flash of red light emitted from the floor of the astronomy tower.

_Part Two: Decadence _

I have seen the results of love; pain and terror, conflagration and despair. Fate may be impartial and Justice blind, but Love hates mankind and knows well that the best way to make him suffer is to kiss him with her sickness."

Silver, not gray. Two liquid pools of silver, like two drops of mercury, like two frozen tears. Two silver eyes, sometimes blank, seemingly emotionless but surely he can't be like that on the inside.

Ivory.

Ivory strands of hair, flipping over a pale, pointed face. Doesn't look quite human, Veela perhaps? Or maybe vampire or elf? Hard to say but not quite human.  
Handsome, no beautiful in a strange melancholy way. Cold, hard, cruel. Uncaring, unloving, unkind and unhappy. Always on the edge of falling over, either to the dark side to join the Death Eaters and Lord Voldemort or t-

Refer; Chapter 6, The French Castle "dark creature"


End file.
